The Darker Side
by saturn de wicked
Summary: NEW - Excitment(?) takes a rest and gives way to words. Finally the story is given a little warmth and feelings ^^
1. Prelude - Partners of Contrast

The Darker Side

Prologue ****

Prelude - Partners of Contrast

A silver-haired young man sat silently in the dark and stared intently at his computer screen. He scanned through the document sent to him a few minutes ago. Another night, another assignment, another notch up for his reputation. Eyes trailing off the last sentence, he lifted his fingers and typed back a reply:

Mission perceived, verification required.

The other side answered almost immediately:

Mission Code 25yqz  
Operator: Metallica  
Mortal Target: Chief Researcher of Project  
Bulwark  
Object target: Headquarters of experimenting laboratories, Priority = IT department and research database

Orders: Death of mortal target is fundamental. Destroy entire laboratory. All evidences and outcomes, written or computerized, of any experiments, ongoing, terminated or concluded, are to be eliminated. Assassin is not to digest ANY KIND OF INFORMATION from the laboratory. Assassin not to be captured. Eliminate witnesses. Assignment to be completed in 16 hours from now.

Mikagami replied:

Initial verification acknowledged. Final verification required.

The words flashed again:

Final verification for mission acquired from client and accounting personnel of authority. Official consent granted. Proceed with mission immediately.

Mikagami closed the window and logged out of his account. Shutting down his laptop, he sighed. Another one… when can I end this type of life? He smiled cynically. He knew the answer. Always. Even before he began working in that profession. Meguri had given him due warning. The answer had been, was and would always be 'never'.

Relief of work meant relief of life.

He stripped off the spandex and tanktop he was wearing. The night was not cold (he was rarely cold anyway) but he was used to dressing presentably. Not that anyone who saw him that night would live long enough to laugh at him. He pulled on a black shirt and long pants of the similar color. His suit was too inappropriate in this sort of circumstances. He pulled on black leather gloves.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he reached into the pockets and pulled out a bunch of keys. He inserted one of them into a drawer and removed a 0.4 caliber semi-matte black Uzi along with several magazines. It was one of his favorites, with a ten round capacity. Reaching deeper, he pulled out a silencer and screwed it on. That was the portable weapon done. He slipped it into his jacket's pocket. It was not that he was too self-confident, carrying only one weapon, but more on the side that he knew for a fact he would only need one.

Compound radius 200 metres… allowance 100 metres… he went over to the opposite side of his room. There were long slabs of white finish wood on the walls, from ceiling to floor, with diamond-shaped mirrors in the middle of each of them. Beautiful interior decoration.

Mikagami bent down and pressed a place in the side wall. What should have been solid cement shifted backwards like a button. The white woods sprung wide open. It was a shallow chamber inside, around 5 feet in depth, and accessible with any of the 'doors'. Mikagami went into one corner and picked out a black briefcase among several others.

He checked the label. Then studied the map of the laboratory that he had printed out. Center of building… the computer labs…

He threw on his jacket and made sure he had sufficient ammunition before grabbing the briefcase and departing the house.

Another night… another night to dye red…

* * *

He pulled the trigger twice. The two guards were down without a sound. Whipping out a few darts, Mikagami cut the wires attached to the three security cameras cleanly. He was impartial to his darts in missions, especially when dealing with surveillance cameras with detectable wires. They made no noise.

The place was surprisingly empty of guards. He had absolutely no trouble slipping in through a side door, with the correct code to release the lock. The patrolling guards were sparsely spread and it was easy to be missed by them. He was glad he did not opt for the underground sewers mode of entrance. The guards outside could live for a while more. They would all be gone at the end of the assignment.

He returned to his present dead-on-the-floor sentries. A quick search of their bodies got him the keys needed for the technical control room. He ventured down the corridor, disposing of more cameras. No more guards came to greet him, and the journey to the elevator was fairly uneventful.

He missed the lift and opted for the stairs. Up two levels, he pushed open the door leading out, and cautiously stepped into the white hallway. On his way to the end of the passage, he disabled three more cameras. At the end, as he expected, was the creamy colored door with the sign 'Technical Room. Do not enter'. He wondered if the one who put the sign up really thought that the sign would generate energy and build a barrier to prevent people from entering. Like a stupid piece of plastic would stop ANYONE…

He chucked the idea of silent entering aside and kicked open the door. It seemed like he did not need the keys anymore. The three men in uniform turned to look at him in surprise. There were three short flashes of orange and they dropped onto the ground, lifeless. Blood slapped Mikagami on the face. There were no more noises. All was quiet.

He stood silently in the doorway, eyes dark.

Then, calmly, he lowered his Uzi and walked into the room, stepping over the corpses. The floor had been painted red. Not only the floor. The blood was everywhere. Mikagami bit his lip. Must have hit the heart…

He stopped in front of a panel of switches and put down his briefcase. From the information sent to him, all the electricity running to the electrical locks were controlled by the room he was in. From the schedule he managed to nab from an hour of hacking, all the doors leading out of the facility should all be closed after 2300. It had been 2250 when he entered the place; he had approximately taken 20 minutes to reach the control room.

He studied the board of switches for a while, Like a chessman pondering over which of the opponent's piece he should take. Mikagami thought, then frowned. The sentence sounded like he was a sadistic God, deciding who to live and die. His shoulder sagged in resignation. But then again, he should have gotten used to the idea of total massacre already. The corner of his mouth quirked. He had been killing for how many years already? Seven?

There was a row of lighted blue buttons at the top of the panel. He tapped each of them, and the lights disappeared. He had cut off the electricity running to the exit doors. Which meant they would all remain shut. As a second thought, he tapped another button labeled 'Base. Vent duct 3. Elect w'. He would need a way to get out.

What should I do with the room…? Can't have someone stumbling in and causing a commotion… He decided to leave it as it was. He had left the two dead sentries downstairs anyway, and not many were likely to stumble into the Technical Control Room. What he was concerned about was the possibility of someone reactivating the doors. That would blow up his whole plan.

He hesitated before opening a nearby cabinet labeled 'Tools'. Digging inside, he managed to obtain a crowbar and a few wire cutters. With those in hand, he glared at the panel. Then, he dug the curved end of the crowbar into the edge of the wood and began prying the lid out. It was five minutes of struggling before he managed to get it loose. Once done, Mikagami dropped the bulky toolbar and picked up the many different sizes of wire cutter. The buttons on the lid had colorful wires connecting them to beyond the panel. Mikagami began snipping.

Not only did he cut the wires, he removed a big piece of each, so there would be no hopes of re-connecting the wires in a short time. He only destroyed the blue buttons. The others had to be working, or else sooner or later, someone would suspect something was amiss. All it took was one.

When the mechanism was beyond repair, Mikagami threw down the wire cutters and forced the lid of the panel back. Satisfied with his handiwork, he wiped the soles of his shoes with a random piece of cloth, cleaning off the blood. Then, he picked up his briefcase and strode out of the room, like a lawyer who had just crushed his adversary in court.

The 'lawyer' calmly wiped the dried spray of blood off his face. And continued on his way. Cool and proud.

She hid in the shadows, waiting for a chance to get at the doors again. They were locked, for some strange reasons. Not that they have not been, most of the time, but usually the correct codes would release the locks and open the doors. And she was in the middle of investigating (admittedly, hitting and jamming all available buttons) when those blasted guards came along.

She impaled the silhouettes near her with eye-daggers. They lingered longer than usual. When they finally moved off, she came out of her hiding place behind a pillar and went over to the metal doors again. They looked as solid as before.

She scowled.

If it had not been for the 'unknown existence' part of the order, she would have blown her way through everything. But as it was, the door still stood smugly in front of her and she was STILL on the wrong side of it.

Damn.

Footsteps sounded. She could only slink back to behind the trusty pillar.

---

The target's room was not far away from the control room. It was on the same level, just a few steps away. Mikagami did not come across any unnecessary conflict on his way there. The staff working there was all in their respective quarters; it was already late. He was a little surprised though. The place had too little guards, considering that it was a top secret government project. He had not met more than ten. Those he saw before being seen were avoided. So far, that tactic was working.

The woman who just came round the corner stared at him blankly. Then at the gun in his hands.

Damn his stupid thoughts.

She opened her mouth to scream. Before she could make any noise though, Mikagami dropped his briefcase and placed his gloved hand over her mouth. He gave the back of her neck a sharp knock and she fell to the ground unconscious. Unfeelingly, he shot her in the back of her head and picked up his luggage. Leaving an unmoving body in his wake, he moved on.

Moved on… Mikagami mused. Yes, he moved on. He always did. His life had been too fucked up for him not to. Every mission passed by like a whirl and blended into the simple equation of life = kill, paid, eat, kill. Like the maid he had just murdered. There were no feelings involved, not even shame at his own brutality.

Later, maybe, if he had the time, he would just go into a church and sit there. Listen to the silence. The silence had always been the thing that brought out the worst nightmares. And while he was sitting there, if he felt like it, he would just release the barrier and let guilt eat at him. Not that much was left anyway. He had gotten so used to ending lives that guilt was not an issue anymore. It was only this dull and irritating voice at the back of his mind.

Later. Everything later. Now, he just had to kill. He would worry about everything else later.

He came to a turn in the corridors. The map of the whole place was already etched in his mind. After this turn would be the personal quarters of the head researcher. He, named Mr. Gouch, was an important man there, Mikagami had learnt. He commanded the whole facility and reported to the masterminds of the project. The whole scheme was a secret activity by the government, researching a new kind of weapon. That was all he had been told. Assassins were there to kill, nothing more. He did not know or bother to find out what the weapon was, what it could do, or what it was going to be used for.

Whatever. The whole thing was going to hell tonight, when he blew up the place.

Mikagami briefly wondered whether he should take a peep at the contents of their work. After all, it would not hurt. The Company had sure warned him against that, and he knew the consequences would be another assassin on his tail. But, hell, you can steal, you can rob, just don't get caught.

His mind went back to the mental map of the place. There would be at least two guards protecting the place against infiltrators, common sense spoke. He took out a small mirror from his pocket and crouched down. Slanting the mirror sideways, he could just make out four pairs of legs wearing black boots, lined against the wall, two on each side of the door. Mikagami could not see whether there were any more lined on the opposite wall. The mirror only remained in use for two seconds. He could not risk the reflected ray being seen. With the picture and position of the guards in his head, Mikagami kept the mirror and straightened from his crouching position.

The guards were definitely armed, but Mikagami did not know to what extent. The passage was straight with no obstacles to hide behind. If he made a bold entrance, the guards were sure to create noise, and that would alert the man inside the room. He had to be dead, no exceptions. Mikagami had to make sure he was dead, and that was why he was taking the trouble of personally visiting him instead of just blowing up the whole damned place. (And of course, he still had the database to erase…) Not that the target would _not_ be dead if the building goes kaboom…

Mikagami put down the briefcase in his hands carefully. It touched the ground without a sound. He then quietly went back to the start of the corridor he was in. Deliberately, he stepped on the ground with enough force just to produce the normal amount of noise. So he fished out a random piece of paper from his jacket's pocket (it happened to be the printed out map) and briskly walked up to the turn in the passage, then into full sight of the sentries.

One frowned and went up to him. "Hey, are you new here? You are not supposed to enter this part of the building without permission."

Mikagami held out the piece of paper. "I'm from the Communications department. An anonymous person has just faxed a map of this facility over along with a note short warning that one of the Mr. Gouch's guards is a spy from another country. The spy is said to have been sent here to steal the secret of our studies and kill Mr Gouch and several other of his more intimate associates. My department manager has sent me to deliver this urgent piece of news to Mr. Gouch, to determine what immediate actions we must take. Can you open this door for me? It's an emergency."

The guard who approached Mikagami shrugged back at his companions. They nodded at him. He took the map from Mikagami. "Hmm… it looks real enough. Show me the note."

Mikagami calmly answered, "It's is still in my manager's hands. He and a few others are trying to obtain clues and tracing the facsimile. It is confidential and the news is not to be spread around just as yet. But the possibility that the warning is genuine is very high." He eyed them suspiciously, with the ease from years of practice. "And… the possibility that one of you is the mentioned spy is also very high…"

The guard quirked an eyebrow and tossed the map back to him. "Shut up, kid. Don't speak when you don't know what you are talking about. Why do they let such a young big mouth work here, I don't know."

Mikagami gave the man a contemptuous look. "Maybe it's because I have the brains you are so unfortunate as to not possess."

He could see the man grinding his teeth. Mikagami regarded the situation with amusement. Just for the sake of entertainment, he added, "I overheard some of the senior operatives saying that the spy's name starts with X. Quite an unusual letter to begin a name with, huh?" His eyes deliberately flashed to the man's nametag. And he raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that YOU are the spy. " Then he laughed smugly.

The guy did not look like he could take any more. His comrades were frowning at his back. Suspicion was brewing. Mikagami hid a cold smile. He loved to pretend. Unfortunately, his acting skills were so well trained that he did not know his real self anymore. Pretend to be Tokiya Mikagami of Hokage for too long, and that soft personality welded over a long-term fire to become part of him, the original Tokiya Mikagami, Operator Metallica of the Company. Well, maybe not that original. He had sudden flash backs of his childhood sometimes - the first Mikagami ever. The Tokiya Mikagami of… the Mikagami family. The Tokiya of Mifuyu.

He ground his teeth and brought his concentration back to the present. There, his smug look had not even faltered when he was straying off to other thoughts. Sometimes, he hated himself. Freak.

The guard wordlessly slid a card into a slot in the door and pushed it open. "Go in and knock at the second door. Mr. Gouch will open it for you if he feels like it."

Mikagami gave the man an insolent challenging look before stepping into the carpeted passageway. It was quite dark. Mikagami dropped the active facial expression and went back into his impassive look. He wondered at the abilities of the guards. They did not even search his body. All the better for them. If they did attempt, then, well, too bad for them, they would gave forfeited their 30 minutes' of life. He would have shot them on the spot.

He approached the door and knocked. There was a scuffle of paper, then heavy footsteps. The door swung open, and a tall and foreboding man stood there. He saw Mikagami and frowned. Before he could say anything, Mikagami asked, "Are you Mr. Gouch?"

"Yeah, and what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. "No one is supposed to enter my quarters without my explicit permission."

"Someone wants this research to end very badly. They have sent an assassin here to end your life, and destroy all evidences of this place's existence. All your efforts have to be flushed," Mikagami replied with all the peace in the world.

"What are you tal-"

Two bullets rammed their ways through thick skull into Mr. Gouch's brain.

Mikagami lowered his gun and watched as he fell back onto the ground. The blood flowed out steadily. He calmly removed the empty magazine from his Uzi and slotted in a new one. Then he dropped it back into his pocket and looked around. There should be nothing that he needed here… all the necessary information had been hacked out of their database.

He turned to leave, shutting the door softly. The assignments were always too easy.

He knocked on the outer door. After a few seconds and a muffled curse from outside, the door opened. The man-with-name-starting-with-'X' glared at him as he stepped out.

Mikagami went back the way he came without a word. As he rounded the corner, he bent down and picked up his briefcase. The next target was the information technology lab. He was to send a virus through their entire system to corrupt, if not destroy, all the existing files. Like he said, there would be no evidence that this project had ever existed. Kill and bury.

He went back to the elevator and took the stairs beside down to the basement. After a few minutes in the identical corridors, he came to a formidable metal door, alike to those in banks, fortifying the deposit boxes. There was a panel with a lot of buttons by its side. Mikagami went over and studied the buttons. He had the codes to access the place, but he wondered if they had changed it in the six-hour interval between his hacking and the present.

He keyed in the long chain of code. There was a short 'beep' then the door slid open slowly. The place was rather small, with not over 50 computers. Most of the staff were not present, and only a handful were left. Mikagami dropped the gun into his pocket and walked in boldly. Not even one of them looked up. He went over to a station far away from the workers on shift.

On the memo board behind the computer, on the wall, there was a picture of a woman with a dazzling smile, hugging a child of not more than seven. The boy bore a striking resemblance to the woman, and it was of no doubt that they were mother and son. The operator of this station is the father then… Mikagami reflected, looking at the photograph. Such a happy family… and it would be he who would shatter the innocence of the child. It would be because he that the child grew up without fatherly love.

Mikagami's face hardened. He was committing yet another sin. That he knew very well. But why should he care? _Someone _had murdered Mifuyu in cold blood, in front of _his_ eyes. _He _had gone through what the boy was about to go through in the near future. And maybe, one day, that naïve, smiling child in the picture would be after his life, out for blood, for revenge. On Operator Metallica.

Blood begets blood, revenge begets revenge. But Mikagami did not care, because when he had finished what he lived to do, he could die. In whose hands, it did not matter.

But there would be no one to avenge him. The chain would simply end there.

A shadow fell across his face. Neechan… He booted the computer and waited for it to finish loading. He had brought along the diskettes containing the self-created virus. It would erase every file within the Intranet and also rub out all the files in the computers where any of the files had been sent to. Back-up copies would all be destroyed and there would be no ways to salvage the whole project.

But as he slotted in the first diskette, he decided to just take a look at the contents of the project. It was not often that he got curious, and when he did, he always sated the gnawing sensation. Randomly, Mikagami picked up a file named 'Stage 14' and opened it.

His blood ran cold.

Shit… these guys are researching… he shut the file quickly without reading much and released the virus. There would be no need for that type of results and records to exist. The world was better off without them. And… it was no longer a professional matter, Mikagami grimly decided. It was personal.

Who would not want these reports to exist…? Are there more of… it can't be… there's only me. Whatever. These must be destroyed.

The virus was successfully uploaded. A window popped out and figures and symbols began to flash and scroll. That lasted for ten seconds before error messages popped out and the whole screen blanked out. Murmurs of surprise came from the workers at their respective stations. Mikagami ignored them and grabbed his briefcase. Now that he got the basic idea of the research's contents, he could not wait to atomize the whole place.

The latches popped open. Adorned in colorful wires with a black body was one very very deadly bomb.

-----

She glared the door poisonously. It was braver than all of the Uruha and Hokage combined - it did not wither. She had been trying her eye laser on the same spot for the past minute. Finally, she sighed and backed away. Seeing the coast was clear, she retreated into the surrounding forest to conceive a plan in safety. She needed to get in…

---

The room was in chaos when Mikagami left, walking out of the door gracefully. It closed behind him, shutting out all the sounds of arguing. They had not yet reached a conclusion of whether to report immediately or await further developments. Mikagami snorted. Were they waiting for the virus to clean itself up?

He had left the incriminating briefcase and its contents behind, the former tucked under a table, while the latter in a drawer. He recalled the number of movies he had seen, out of boredom, and wondered why the hell all criminals stick their bombs onto walls or lay them out for everyone to see and admire.

It was twenty minutes to detonation.

He made his way down to the basement. Now that all cameras were rendered useless, he could go anywhere without care. Actually, he wondered whether the security guards in the control had actually seen him slipping in. There was not too much commotion, if they had.

The room in the basement was dark, with big fans whirling and blowing hot air all around. His sight adjusted to the unaccustomed darkness, scanning the big room for any signs of potent danger. It was all quiet, except for the whirling of the fans and quiet humming of machinery. It was where all the basis of the luxuries in the building was kept. The air was greasy and humid, courtesy of the heat generated from the machines.

Mikagami went over to a big vent in a corner, with a big sign above saying 'Ventilation duct 3. Danger. High Voltage'. It was not the type of small airing shaft seen in air-conditioned offices. It was easily half of Mikagami's height, and thrice as wide as him. Stretching over the gaping mouth was mesh wires, charged with strong voltage.

Mikagami yanked the whole net of wires off forcefully. He had already turned off the electricity in the control room. The inside of the ventilation shaft was dark and foreboding. He threw the wire mesh aside, ducked his head, and crawled in.

---

She was about to make another attempt at the door when a loud clamor inside the building caught her attention. She froze at the edge of the trees. There was a sudden blast of flames and noise and the whole building blew apart. Heat surged in her direction, and something burning hit her body. She nearly yowled out in pain, and jumped away from the flying object at once. Pieces of the once standing facility were flying everywhere. The explosion had not reached where she was, but the forest was near enough to be hit by the random debris sailing through air.

Common sense told her to hide deep into the forest. The hypnotizing fires and utter destruction beckoned to her. She stood there.

---

Mikagami stood at the edge of the trees, staring at the death that was burning. He smiled bitterly, wondering when he had started on terrorist work. He was an assassin, prostituting his skills, supposed to work in the dark, silently. And there he was, making a big bang out of everything. Just so no witnesses were left.

He still held his gaze of the fire impassively. It was almost like a scandal to God and His creations. The more the holocaust and sin you feed, the more beautiful the fruits that were born. He saw in it not the demon nor the beast, but the innate beauty that lived.

It was amusing that his element should be the water. Water puts out fire. Water puts out the destruction and the fatal beauty. Does it mean he was the purifying factor? It was ironic. He turned and retreated into the forest.

His sharp senses, for once, missed that lone shadow that stood dumbly, staring at the flames, on the other side of the inferno.

The brilliance of the fire emphasized on the red covering him. Emphasized on the blood in his hands.

* * *

At home, sitting at his own computer, Mikagami typed out the report for his previous mission.

Mission code 25yqz.  
Operator: Metallica  
Status: Accomplished  
Mortal Target: Deceased  
Object Target: Inactive  
Report: Entire database wiped out by virus. Building blown up. No surviving witnesses. Too little guards present. An in-depth check of the project is recommended in circumstance of mischance.

A reply came back immediately.

Confirm report, Operator Metallica.

Mikagami's mind flashed back to the contents of the project. He was half tempted to ask about it, but by relating that he had knowledge of the forbidden, he would have at the same time signed and sealed his death contract.

Report confirmed.

Yawning, Mikagami shut down the computer. In his mind, the picture of the lady and her son was still fresh. The son was now an orphan.

* * *

In another person's bedroom, a young woman was also facing the computer, cursing as she typed.

Mission Code 25yqx(2)  
Operator: Tempest  
Status: Accomplished  
Report: Goddammit! I was blasted hell out of that ass of a building by that damned assassin! No one told me he was going to blow that place up! I'd wreck up YOUR HQ if you tell me to escort that kind of asshole again!

The reply came back as…

Report, Operator Tempest.

An 'x' grew on the girl's forehead.

Subject Metallica unharmed although escort almost DIED. Guards disposed and path was cleared for subject. I demand a raise of commission!

Confirm report, Operator Tempest.

The girl growled softly.

Report confirmed and don't goddammit ask me again.

She shut down the computer before she could receive anything else and plopped into bed, planning to be dead till the next morning. The collapsing building was still burning in her head.

* * *

Sensei glared at his pupil in distaste. HE was sleeping again and NO ONE dared to wake him up. Several pupils giggled at the teacher's expression. He flashed the almighty I-rule-around-here-so-everyone-just-shut-up-cus-I'm-the-greatest look, intending to intimidate. They giggled more. He could do nothing to Tokiya Mikagami. Every time he was scolded, it always ended up the scolder being ridiculed instead.

Luckily for both parties, the bell rang at that moment and everyone filed out for break without any consent from the teacher. A few girls remained to drool at Mikagami's sleeping look. Their peace was not long-lived, for Recca and Company stalked in at that moment, creating major havoc. Mikagami's eyelids opened, showing not a single trace of sleepiness and he stood up. Inwardly, he groaned. Darn… they're earlier than usual.

He had been escaping them by slipping out of class early. It was only recently that they had started bugging him in break. Sighing heavily, he resigned to his fate. One consolation was that Yanagi was there as well, smiling nervously at the edge of the group.

The teacher was yelling at the group to get out but stopped immediately when Domon gave him a menacing glare. Size does matter sometimes. Yanagi immediately apologized furiously.

Laughing merrily, the group dragged Mikagami away, much to the girls' dismay.

* * *

At the rooftop…

"Hey, cheer up, Mikagami! The sky is still intact and showing no sign of crashing down!" Recca said as he worked his way through a packet of bread his hime had bought.

"Yeah Fuuko, you too. It's not like I am going to ditch you any moment, right? There's no need to pull a long face," Domon laughed as he patted the girl on the back. A second later, he yowled in pain at the many kunai stuck in his arm.

"Not enough sleep…" Fuuko and Mikagami drawled in unison.

The two stared at each other in surprise but Mikagami shrugged it off. Fuuko though, was a lot more persistent. Energy charging back, she hissed to Mikagami in a stage whisper, "What did you do, huh? C'mon, tell!"

Mikagami feigned oblivion to her question and concentrated instead on his canned coffee. Fuuko's eyes gleamed wickedly as she thought of some evil idea to bring their teammate back to life. "Say, guys, what do you say if we spent our day at Mi-chan's house today? He place seem to be the only one we haven't wrecked yet, so it ain't fair!"

Recca agreed at once and high-fived Fuuko. Yanagi beamed at the idea, very curious to what was in Mikagami-sempai's house. Fuuko immediately gagged Domon when he attempted to comment, one that would probably spoil their attempt at utter destruction.

The suggestion caused severe protests from the unfortunate Mikagami, but as usual, were buried under the overpowering determination of the team to 'visit' the Hyomon Ken master's house.

* * *

Mikagami looked green all the way home, tagged by the bunch of perpetually energetic people. They had collected Kaoru from his school on the way. The chattering stopped when they reached a large elegant house. Mikagami turned greener but he took out a key and unlocked the gate. The garden beyond was green and neat, followed by a white-painted house of considerable size.

"Erm… this your place, Mikagami?" Recca asked nervously.

"Yeah," the iceman replied coldly. "Got a problem there?"

"Whee! How did you get such a big house? That's twice the size of mine!" Fuuko whistled as she looked at it in awe.

"My parents left it to me." Mikagami plucked out his key from the keyhole and went over to the left gatepost. He punched in a lot of numbers on the keypad planted in the concrete.

"But Mikagami-sempai, didn't you tell me at the mirror house that you and your sister lived poorly after your parents passed away?" Yanagi asked innocently.

"I found out later that they had this house. After my sister died, that is."

Nobody questioned anymore. The badly concealed bitterness in their friend's voice had effectively sealed in any questions.

Trooping up the drive, they entered the house and began unauthorized exploring. Mikagami stayed behind in the hall, sat down, and counted down the seconds to their departure. He squeezed his eyes shut the sound of breaking glass emitted from the next room. Loud chatter rang in the normally sullen place. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

It was after more than fifteen minutes when, faintly, a beeping sounded in his bedroom upstairs. Alert immediately, he stood up and ascended the stairs. He slipped into his room silently not wanting to attract any of the wreckers' attention. Fuuko and Domon were a few rooms away, in his library. Strange place for the two to be in.

He went over to his computer and deactivated the screensaver. The beeping stopped. Logging on to his personal online folder he created, he opened the new file there and read the contents.

Mission Code PurgeManiac  
Operator: Metallica  
Mortal Target: Assassin Code Maniac  
Location: Currently unknown  
Orders: Eliminate Operator Maniac. Subject is full-fledged assassin, does not specialize in terrorism from file records. Rank Two in Company. Subject aborted mission three weeks before and absconded. Location currently unknown. Suspected to have approximately 3 subordinates accompanying in his flight, taking the minimum. Objective for assassination not to be disclosed. No queries with regards to mentioned objective would be acknowledged. Operator Tempest would partner you for this mission. You are to assist her in ways you see fit, employing your experience. Both assassins not to be captured. Leave no traces of activities. We believe that she may expose her full potential through this mission. Mission is not to be rejected. Orders will not change.

Commission percentage: 40% (US$ 1,200,000)  
Partner Code: Operator Tempest

Mikagami cursed in exasperation. He did not NEED a partner! They only knew how to screw up.

At that moment, Fuuko burst in and exclaimed in delight, "Hey, Mi-chan! I didn't know you kept… !!!"

Mikagami minimized the window hurriedly. He turned round to face a stunned Fuuko with her mouth gaping. She strode over to the computer hurriedly. Mikagami attempted to push her away and frowned. "Don't touch my computer. It's too delicate for barbarians like you."

She did not argue, much to Mikagami's frustrations. Silently, she shoved him away with greater force, eyes not leaving the screen for once. She maximized the window. And stared. Mikagami stood aside and let her read through the whole file of his mission. Finally, she tore her eyes away from the screen.

"You're, you're Metallica… ?" Fuuko asked weakly.

Mikagami rolled his eyes to heavens with the ease of years of experience. "Haven't you seen an online game before? Or is Internet so futuristic for you?"

"Don't bluff me, Mikagami," Fuuko said, suddenly quiet. She looked away into a corner. "So you work for them…"

"Work for who?" Mikagami added a hint of puzzlement to his voice, though his blood ran cold.

Fuuko snorted, then buried her face in her hands. "Why, Mikagami, why? How can you work for them…? You, the Mikagami I know… You of all people…"

Mikagami let his deceptive front fall. "You know them?" his eyes narrowed.

"I'm Tempest."

From the useless author…

Flame me, hang me, kill me. I know I've made a mess outta this idea. But at least this is better than the first edition, right? It's definitely obsolete now; I'm so ashamed of my first draft. This second edition is much more believable, and I think the 'edition' is very suitably used. It's a total rewrite.

For those few pages that have this fic on, please update the version, or else just delete the whole story away. I refuse to let the first version be any more widely read and jeered at.

As for why Mikagami would want to use guns when he had Ensui, I guess it would be him not wanting his sister's property and family heirloom to be stained with blood. In this Alternate Reality fic, Mikagami has been trained from 10 onwards to become the perfect assassin, and not just with regards to abilities. He is more deeply bonded to his profession than that. Will further explain in future chapters.

______________________________________________________________________________ 

The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™. Characters in this fan fiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission from its creator and are copyrighted to their respective owners.

© 2001 saturn de wicked™


	2. Mission 1 - A Reason to Kill

The Darker Side

Chapter I - Mission 1

**A Reason to Kill**

A loud crash sounded outside. There was not even a twitch from the two. Recca and Domon tumbled into the room, locked in a fistfight and came face to face with Mikagami and Fuuko staring at each other. Both bodies were tense and looked ready to pounce. "Whadda?" Recca asked, fight forgotten.

"No, nothing," Mikagami said, eyes trailing off Fuuko. "I'm telling you first, you're going to pay for everything you destroy in this house and within its boundaries."

Immediate effect.

Without a word, both the wreckers sauntered out of the room, admiring the ceiling in unison. Mikagami shut the door softly behind them and locked it. There was silence in the room for the moment, as each openly contemplated on how to react. Finally, it was Mikagami who first turned away from the door and faced his teammate and possibly, partner. His expressions hardened as he met the emerald green eyes. "Why are you working for the Company?"

Fuuko's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk to me like that. You know very well I can ask you the same thing. You don't mess with my business and I won't question yours. Fair exchange."

Mikagami weighed his losses and benefits for a moment before relaxing slightly. "Fine."

Both stood unmoving for more than a minute, waiting for each other to make the first move. It was not awkwardness, but rather, a case of caution. Mikagami no longer trusted Fuuko, and vise versa. Because it was not Hokage anymore; there was so much at stake in their game of killing, and both the teenagers knew that very well.

They might have as well been enemies, as they stood from across the room, staring each other down.

This time, it was Fuuko who first backed down. She held out her hand with a mocking smile. "Nice to meet you, Metallica."

Mikagami turned and open the door again, ignoring the hand. He took a step out. "Remember, Fuuko: Once a killer, always a killer."

Fuuko lost her smile. "And kindly enlighten me on the philosophy behind this saying."

"There is no way to get the blood off your hands once you touch it," was all he said, as he softly closed the door. "We won't talk now. Later, in the evening."

As the door clicked shut, the cover of the cold assassin crumbled and Fuuko fell back onto the bed, having lost the support that came with deception. The sunlight came in from the through the dust curtains, and fell on her face. Fuuko put an arm over her eyes and sighed tiredly, feeling dead and numb inside. Why Mikagami…? Why him?

Better than any of the others, right? her other voice reminded her. You should be glad it's not Koganei or Recca… at least Mikagami fits in with that role…

Shit! What the hell am I thinking of…?

"And what the hell am I doing with my life…?" she whispered, to the kind ears that were no longer there. "What am I doing…? Tell me, mum… tell me…"

Don't fall into self-pity. DON'T FALL INTO SELF-PITY. She's not here anymore, so don't even think about the impossible. Don't dream.

Don't dream… yes… can't dream… she ignored the tears that ran down the side of the face. So it's Mikagami then…

Yes, the other side of her head replied.

Fuuko sighed to herself. The bad thing about that is that he's my friend… I don't want to know that at any minute, I can find one of my pals dead with a hole in the head.

She buried her face in her hands.

And the good thing is that he has no relatives who would give a shit about whether he's dead and alive.

---

Mikagami sat down in front of his computer and stared at the blank screen, face as cold, as emotionless, as usual. He had not yet figured out how to react to the new discovery of Fuuko's alternate identity. Tempest… Operator Tempest…

Somehow it was just so hard to add the 'Operator' in, so hard to imagine the lively and bubbly girl standing in a pool of blood and death, with a gun… _the_ gun in her hand. He could not deny that he felt sad. Tokiya Mikagami felt sad with his heart, that a young girl with a bright future was being put to waste like that. Metallica felt sad, with his head, recognized the word 'sad' and then immediately raised his caution against a potential rival.

Mikagami wondered what was going on with him. But then again, he had lived with this almost-split personality for more than half a decade. He calmly shook away his thoughts and turned on the computer. No use harassing himself over the issue: the irreversible had been done. There was no way Fuuko was going to free herself anymore.

The PC finished booting quickly and ended in a wallpaper of kaleidoscopic patterns, carrying the message of how confusing and yet at the same time, how similar the society could be. Mikagami clicked on the 'report' icon and started typing.

Operation Code PurgeManiac

Primary operator: Metallica

Secondary operator: Tempest

Notification: I have already contacted party in reference. There is no more need for an arranged rendezvous.

Mission perceived. Mission acknowledged. Queries = 0 Verification required.

He waited for his agent to reply. The house was quiet, more so in the aftermath of The Animal Invasion. Quiet was bad. Quiet was unhealthy. It leaves a vacuum in the mind, which creates the need for things like _thoughts_ to be filled in. But even so, Mikagami loved the quiet, the solitude…

Mission Code PurgeManiac

Primary operator: Metallica

Secondary operator: Tempest

Mortal Target: Assassin Code Maniac

Dateline: In six months from day of accepting operation

Location: Currently unknown

Orders: Eliminate Operator Maniac. Subject is full-fledged assassin, does not specialize in terrorism from file records. Rank Two in Company. Subject aborted mission three weeks before and absconded. Location currently unknown. Suspected to have approximately 3 subordinates accompanying in his flight, taking the minimum. Objective for assassination not to be disclosed. No queries with regards to aforementioned objective would be acknowledged. Operator Tempest would partner you for this mission. You are to assist her in ways you see fit, employing your experience. Both assassins not to be captured. Leave no traces of activities. We believe that she may expose her full potential through this mission. Mission is not to be rejected. Orders will not change.

Commission percentage: 40% (US$ 1,200,000)

Fuuko was going to come back later, once she had shaken off the others. Mikagami did not know why, but the tag of 'operator' was oppressive. They were like hot iron, used to brand property. 'Operator' was a sign of slavery to the death for the Company, and defection or incapability that mars the sign was the death sentence. Marked, Mikagami thought dully. Marked like pigs.

Initial verification processed. Final verification required.

Hell was throwing away your pride to achieve something you do not really want..

Hell was walking through raw, beautiful and destructive fire, knowing you caused the loss of a few more lives.

Hell was participating in crossfire while an old and unknowingly granny stands in the path of your bullet.

Hell was knowing the severity of your unforgivable sins and yet still pull the trigger on it.

Hell was going through everything and in its aftermath, lie on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and discover that you don't know what you are selling your soul for.

Hell was when you alienate yourself from the world, telling yourself in comfort that the society brought this on you, and it doesn't matter if you sit at the computer the next day, confirming the amount of electronic cash you've received for taking away the happiness of the countless people still living but had lost something more.

Overwrite previous orders regarding mortal target.

New orders: Target assassin Code Maniac not to be killed. Capture target alive and/or send target to specified location.

Option 1 - Hold target captive until dateline. Specify number of agents required to attend handing over of target. Specify location. Specify time. Specify other requirements.

Option 2 - Schedule a date to hand over target before dateline. Specify number of agents required to attend handing over of target. Specify location. Specify time. Specify other requirements.

Hell was suppressing memories of the last destruction, then sitting at the keyboard, to yet again accept the duty from Death.

Initial verification acknowledged. Final verification required.

Final verification for mission acquired from client and accounting personnel of authority. Official consent granted. Proceed with mission immediately.

Hell was, after all, life.

The door opened.

"I take it that you're not followed." Mikagami said, not looking away from the screen.

"Hey, I'm Fuuko the wind goddess, wielder of Fuujin. Are you looking down on me, Mi-chan?" Fuuko glomped him from behind.

Mikagami went stiff and gritted his teeth. He wondered for the nth time why he put up with her.

Fuuko detached herself after having no response. "Why am I oh so lucky as to have a chance to work with the great Tokiya Mikagami anyway?"

"Coincidence." But Mikagami himself was having doubts. The Company knew he did not like to work with partners, so he almost always did solitary work. His last permanent partner died after less than 5 operations with him, partly because of his negligence towards imparting information. Maybe the Company knew both of them were teammates… and there was a huge possibility of that, from the underground fame they had gotten for defeating Kokom's top team.

Is that why they put us together…? How would it benefit them?

"Do you think this partnership is permanent?" Fuuko asked, as she flung herself on a big cushion in one corner.

"I pray not," Mikagami muttered, furiously typing away.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing that a monkey can understand," Mikagami muttered again. "Come over."

Fuuko bounced up and joined him at the computer. "What's up?"

"Information," Mikagami said simply.

What Fuuko saw was a map of a district with names she did not recognize, and a red cross in the middle marking one building which stood out in blue. "What's that?"

"The information centre. I tried just now and couldn't find anything regarding our target online. We'll have to go to this place," he informed.

"Why not available online? I thought Information Technology rules the world these days?" Fuuko asked, bored.

"Creators are smart, but users are smarter. One security system can always be broken through by a hacker better at codes. That's why one can always be traced on the web," Mikagami replied, leaning back into his chair.

"So it's safer to go to this place?" Fuuko scoffed.

"It's safer for them. But when you have knowledge of the Company's existence, it's danger everywhere. Doesn't make a difference anymore."

"You're awfully chatty today, aren't you?" Fuuko remarked. "Well, where's this place?"

"Suburb area of Los Angeles, South," Mikagami replied mechanically.

"WHAT??!!!" Fuuko exclaimed. "What the hell?! What about school?" She rarely missed a day of school and the prospect generally disgusted her.

"What's the difference? You'll still fail. Just worse," Mikagami shrugged.

He ducked to avoid the punch that came his way. "Go out now and think it over."

"I'll be back for you later…" Fuuko muttered, classifying revenge as secondary. What was she going to do…? Oh, yeah, like I'm in a position to choose… "Darn…"

She wandered past several locked rooms, and went out into the garden through sliding glass pane in the hall. It was a beautiful place, Fuuko admitted. She had not thought Mikagami would plant flowers in his garden, less brightly colored ones. Her own used to be like that too, just smaller. She remembered a time in her childhood when she tried to dig a pond manually with a yellow toy spade, trying to create a bigger home for the two terrapins her mother bought for her… those were the happy days…

She sat down on the ground beside a tree of cherry blossoms that would soon be in full bloom. It was only February, and Spring was just beginning to start… Mum loves Spring… wonder who will take out the hinaningyo this year… It was always Mum bothering about these things…

She twirled a blade of grass around her finger. It was too much, as always. Slight things would trigger her memories and crack the fragile dam that held them at bay. Such things would keep reminding her of the reasons why she became a killer…

---

She sat down in the hall, on the stone cold floor. It was the first day.

Then there was the wait. Waiting for people to come and cry. She was not sure, but it seemed that she had been crying for so long.

All that was left was a hollow emptiness and a headache.

She looked at the long wooden box beside her and wondered how it must feel like to be lying inside. Horrible, she supposed. But what wouldn't her give to be the one lying in there right now, to replace the still body which had lost its warmth.

The first of the guests stepped in. it was her teammates, here to visit her, here to comfort__ her, like they thought it would work.

Apparently they did.

Yanagi put her arms around her and sobbed into her shoulders. Fuuko tried to smile. "Hey, I should be the one crying…"

She shook her head and mumbled something, then continued to silently howl into Fuuko's limp body. Recca knelt down by their side and put his arms around both of them. Domon picked up Ganko from one of the corners and tried to comfort the wailing girl. Fuuko thought he was making it worse; the young kid had stopped crying long ago.

Koganei just knelt down in front of the coffin to mourn, and to try to stop his tears. Kagerou patted Fuuko on the shoulder. Her hand felt aged and tired. "Don't be too sad, Fuuko… please… She has left her worries behind to go to a better place…"

Left me behind, left bro behind, left her whole family behind to cry for her, Fuuko thought, but she appreciated the effort. Yeah, Kagerou should know. It's a good thing to be able to die, right?

It was still in the wee hours of the morning, too early for it to be warm. Maybe that was why she felt cold, so cold and drained. Stupid cold, makes people feel so numb… when will the sun be up?

"She's already dead. She won't come back to life."

"Mikagami-kun!" Kagerou stared at him in horror.

"Bastard! What do you think you're talking about?" Recca grabbed his collar and punch him across the face. Mikagami fell a step back.

"Did I say anything wrong?" he asked.

Recca took a step towards him again, the fury rushing into his head.

"Stop it, Recca." Fuuko ordered. Her voice was strong, cold, carrying over the rest of the noise, the uncouth__ noise. Domon looked ready to pounce any moment. "I'm not crying, Mikagami."

"Good," he replied, "Because she's already dead."

"Yeah. Murdered," Fuuko agreed flatly. Silence. "Anyone wants some coffee?"

Mikagami turned to go. "Get over it early." The door clicked shut.

---

The blade of grass snapped. Fuuko blinked. Something wet fell onto her fingers. She rubbed her eyes in frustration. No, she should not be crying now, not after one whole year. Dammit.

After the initial few days, she restored her mask and continued with life, though everything seemed so different. She learned to observe so many things anew, minor things that were never of her concern before. Minor things like how the seat on the other side of the table was now unoccupied, minor things like why the house was cold, so cold, because there was no one to light the fire, and _negligible_ things like the price of sugar.

The sense of loss was all that occupied her, as she started from scratch, learning how to continue with life and accommodate space, the empty space that was there all of a sudden, in the master bed room, in the kitchen, beside her. It was hard to stand up, and her knees and elbows were already raw from trying, painful even now.

Was that how Mikagami felt?

Fuuko felt nauseated, but other people's lives did not matter that much after her mother died. She thought she would have valued the whole concept of 'existence' even more, but she proved herself wrong. Felt like there was no point in living any more, since life was hard to endure.

The next thing that came to her mind was revenge. The abominable word. **The Menace**.

And she thought Mikagami was stupid. Well, some things you just have to experience. So here she was, bound for life by the invisible contract she sealed with the Company, hoping to find some clue to who her mother's murderer was. And she couldn't say she was all too successful.

She jumped up and stretched. Okay, no school for a while. Ganko's not with me anymore, so it's fine. She considered informing her brother of her departure for a moment, then snorted in disgust. Like she could find him, anyway. He rarely returned home these days.

Ganko had been sent to live with Recca in Shiego's small house when her mother… passed away. Fuuko alone was not enough to take care of her and she would be all alone at home when Fuuko was out at school.

"What…?"

"No, Fuuko-neechan!! Don't send me away! I promise I'll be good!! Please! I won't mess up the bedding anymore, please don't send me away!"

"Fuuko…"

"…"

"How could you…? You know how much she loves you."

"Someone… please, take care of her for me."

"You have to reconsider this, Fuuko. It's not funny."

"I'll take her."

"Recca!"

"No! I won't go with you! Fuuko-neechan, please!!"

"I'm sorry…"

"FUUKO-NEECHAN!!! COME BACK!! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!! FUUKOOOOOO!!!!"

Holy shit… I don't need this right now. Fuuko ran her fingers through her hair.

She went back into house and padded up the wooden staircase. Mikagami's house was dead too, no noise, so many echoes… it was eerie, the size of the house and its lack of contents. She had peeked into some rooms, and from what she saw, most of them were empty, or else just with one chair in the middle…

It seemed like Mikagami only lived in one room, which was the one he was in currently, at the end of the narrow and dark corridor. Fuuko had not seen for herself, but Recca told her that he accidentally stumbled into a place somewhere beside the hall where all furnishings were covered by white sheets, and that was the only color in the room. The place reminded her of bad horror movies with a manor and a psycho owner that hated the world.

She was not surprised at how the description fit.

Some time, I'll have to get a few pots of flowers from Domon and decorate this place. It's SO very dead, Fuuko sighed. Wonder why he keeps his garden so colorful and…

She opened the door. Mikagami was still typing away.

"Okay, just approximately how long will this thing take?" Fuuko demanded, shutting the door behind her.

"We have six months to complete the mission. The information and research will take one week at the maximum, inclusive of the travelling time," he replied, not looking at her.

"I can't say 'no' and you know it," Fuuko sighed in defeat. "When do we depart?"

"There should be no danger in us going together. Formulate some excuses for those whom know you; we'll depart the day after tomorrow."

"WHAT???!!!!!"

She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Why so soon?!"

"What's the difference?"

Fuuko sighed. "At least give me some warning before you spring such surprises on me again… why do I need a partner like you anyway? I believe I AM capable enough to work on my own…"

"Not a problem of skills, but one of tactics and experience. If they say you are new, then you _haven't_ been working for long. Last night proves it. Don't think I don't know someone cleared that place out before I reached it. You left so little guards there, I'm surprised no one noticed. You're _lucky_ I know someone's been there before. I made sure you were outside before I destroyed the electricity connection to the door, or else you'll be trapped and- " he drew a line across Fuuko's neck. "Dead."

A vein flickered on her forehead, marking her in 'danger' mode. "That reminds me, Tokiya Mikagami, what did you go blow up that place for? I was almost blasted into bits!"

"No witnesses…" Mikagami whispered, with an almost pensive look in his eyes.

"…What?" Fuuko faltered. "Just to get rid of witnesses…? YOU KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE JUST TO GET RID OF WITNESSES?!"

Mikagami did not say anything. Click. Clack. Click. Click. He continued tying.

"I can't _believe_ you're Mikagami… What happened to you?" Fuuko shook her head in disbelief.

"Metallica can do what Tokiya Mikagami doesn't. Metallica is a killer."

Like that is an excuse… Fuuko thought bitterly. "I suppose I don't pertain the right to criticize your doings… I just wish you feel guilty for it. For killing hell knows how many innocent people who didn't know they were dying as the flames burned." Her eyes flashed with the detached pain she felt.

There was only the sounding of keys being hit again and again for the next few minutes. Mikagami's mind focused on his computer and not on the words that still rang in his ears. Fuuko sat down on the cushion in one corner, and stared at the floor.

"Are we going to discuss something, or are we not?" Fuuko finally broke the silence.

"How are you going to explain your absence?"

"Er…" Fuuko scratched her head, and lost the somber mood. She really did not feel like dealing with guilt and philosophy at that moment, and when those times come, it was best to resign to suppressing feelings. "I'll just say my aunt in America died or something. Don't worry, I'll think of something…"

*silence*

"Don't look at me like I'm stupid, because I'm NOT!" Fuuko snapped indignantly.

"…"

"What about you? Have an excuse ready?"

"I'll just fake a letter of introduction from a college and say I've been referred to there," Mikagami shrugged.

"Oh, the cheek of it all…" Fuuko feigned rage.

Both fell silent again after that.

"Mi-chan?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

---

Fuuko sat at the dining table, fork and spoon in hand, humming to herself, with a look that could only described as plain amusement as she watched Mikagami at work on dinner. "Oh, the unattainable honor of tasting Your Highness' divine culinary skills… I am indeed a blessed commoner," she sniggered.

"Fuuko…" Mikagami warned.

"I cringe from the exhaustive effort to zap me with The Glare and whimper in terror at the evil undertone of the threat," Fuuko said dramatically, throwing both her arms out.

"Stupid monkey…"

"Hmm… it smells real good, Mi-chan… what are you cooking?" Fuuko asked.

Mikagami cracked another egg and dropped just the yolk in.

"Hello? The goddess of beauty is making an inquiry about the unknown substance she is about to ingest!"

He added a spoon of butter.

"Hey!" Fuuko threw the fork at him, aiming perfect from her years of practice with her shuriken.

But accuracy means nothing if the weapon does not hit the intended target. Mikagami simply caught it just as it was about to make contact with the back of his head. Plucking it out of the air, he dipped it into the frying pan and tasted the sauce. "That won't work."

He poured the pan of dark red sauce over two plates of spaghetti, and added a sprig of parsley on each plate. "Not yet, Fuuko."

He took out a carrot, apple, pineapple, a slice of melon and mayonnaise from the refrigerator, then with unbelievable speed, skinned and chopped them into neat cubes. The mixture of fiber and vitamins were separated into two bowls, then topped with diluted mayonnaise. He placed the two bowls beside the plates of spaghetti, then checked the soup that was already boiling.

Smells like pumpkin… Fuuko put her nose in the air. The scent alone was enough to excite her saliva glands.

Mikagami ladled the soup into two miniature white soup bowls. Fuuko marveled at how fully-equipped his kitchen was. Fuuko had learnt something from her short time here -- if a place in the house was to be furnished, it was either given full attention or left empty. She had seen the bar a few moments ago, in the second den. It came with all the types of glassware one could think of, from a shot glass to a pilsner to beer mug, unlike most professional bars nowadays. Fuuko had no great knowledge of bartending, but she knew a good and well-stocked bar when she sees one. Especially when it had two bottles of Remy Martin Louis XIII in the collection.

She wondered why they were there anyway, since Mikagami did not seem to drink.

Said young man served her the soup first, putting a bowl on each side of the table with grace.

"Whoa… this feels like I'm in a restaurant… what's with the three course meal anyway?" Fuuko raised an eyebrow.

"I never mess around when it comes to eating. Most restaurants put in a lot of food coloring and artificial flavoring," Mikagami said, sitting down opposite her. "Soup first. It's pumpkin."

Fuuko spooned a large helping into her mouth.

*silence*

"ARGHHHHHH!!!!!!!" She stood up and went to the sink, spitting frantically. Mikagami frowned in concern (for the taste of his food) and tasted his own soup.

*silence*

"Is there something wrong?"

Fuuko look at him, and one could almost see the blood in her eyes. "_Dammit, what did you ADD inside?_"

Mikagami frowned, a little insulted. "Wasabe, you've got a problem?"

"_Wasabe!! You put wasabe in **pumpkin soup**? Ya nuts or something?_" Fuuko sputtered while washing her mouth clean. Her voice… sounded like it was going. She coughed furiously.

Mikagami continued spooning (delicately) the soup into his mouth. "You could have told me your tolerance for spicy food is this pathetic."

"_What did you call me?_" *cough* *hack*

"Pathetic," Mikagami repeated evenly.

Fuuko's immediate thoughts were unprintable, but the basic idea can be perceived from the fire that flared from her eyes. "_Oh, I'll show you pathetic!_"

She grabbed her bowl of abandoned soup and held it up, then in one incredible mouthful, poured it all down her throat. Her veins sort of floated up, and the white in her eyes turned kind of pink. Mikagami watched calmly, face straight, and the image of Ranma choking on Akane's food came to mind involuntarily, possibly because Fuuko fit into that category of… looks, at that moment. (He remembered catching that on the television at the hotel room during the Urabatousatsujin.)

The white bowl slammed down on the table (then cracked into two). (Meaning the bowl, but then again, a crack did appear on the table's marble surface…) Fuuko turned to face Mikagami, face and ears all red. "_There! I'm better than you!_"

Mikagami pushed his soup bowl aside, and sniffed. "You could have been more refined."

"_WHAT?!?!_"

"I mean you could have eaten in a less carnivorous way," Mikagami muttered to himself. Wisely, he collected both his and Fuuko's bowls and brought on the spaghetti and salad. "No spice."

Fuuko calmed down considerably, and sat down again. She tentatively dripped a bit of sauce into her mouth. "Edible…"

*silence*

"Okay, actually it's rather nice."

*silence*

"Can you lend me the recipe?"

"There's no recipe for this."

"Then where did you learn it from?!"

"Someone I know."

"Teach me!"

"I can't."

"Come on! Teach me!"

"Something important is missing."

"Then get it!"

"I can't."

"Why?!"

"It can't be bought."

"What is it?!!"

"You won't want to know."

"Well, I do!"

"Love."

*silence*

"What?" Fuuko asked, confused. "Love?"

"Yes," Mikagami looked away. "You can't get it. It's missing. I certainly don't love you."

"What's spaghetti got to do with _love_?" Question marks flew.

"It's taught to me by someone I love, and someone who loves me, that's why there's no recipe for it…" Mikagami whispered, and stared at his plate.

"Oh…" was all Fuuko could manage. She blushed. Idiot! How dumb can you get?! Then as she kept quiet and thought about it, a deep still settled in her, weighing down her guts. "So it's settled then?" she changed the topic. "I'll go home and pack my bags. You go get the tickets."

She started gobbling down her food. Then before Mikagami could say anything else, she was out of the kitchen and racing for the gate. "See ya tomorrow!"

A vein flickered on Mikagami's forehead. She didn't even clear up…

---

Fuuko raced down the streets at her fastest, as the wind blew hot tears against her face. She wiped them away angrily. Third time, Fuuko Kirisawa. Third time today.

And the thing was, she could not control it; them, the tears. She _knew_ they were coming, knew since Mikagami mentioned the word that she thought would never come out of his mouth ever. Love. Of course he had to mention that.

And then of course, the main triggers were her memories. Bloody hell. Happiness can turn into bitterness and even hatred when the cause of it is gone forever. How many times had she returned home after school, and just ignored her mother or quarreled with her? How many times had she taken for granted that she would always be there to cook for her? To make sure she ate all her food? To clean up the mess after she finished?

She ran and ran, not towards her house, the house that was once her home. She ran the way she did the night before, for a long time, didn't stop until she reached the trees.

---

Movies were nothing but bluffs.

There were no cops and detectives stampeding the place, no sirens blaring, no busy looking people at all. **At least no one who looked like they were on the side of justice**.

People in police uniform, yes. A trio or more left there to guard the place. The place where a once proud building had stood, closed off to the world. Now there was rubble and the smell of low-quality cigarettes. And of course, the few upholders of law who looked like drug traffickers. They sat at a table set inside the blue and white tape that ran around the boundary of the affected area, smoking, laughing, and altogether not doing their job.

Fuuko stood in the shadows of the trees. The detectives and important people were probably already in their offices after handing the **bits and pieces of meat** that had been salvaged to the forensic scientists. Or maybe not. Clearly they died of bombing. But then again, maybe they could trace the type of bomb used through the… smell of the charred flesh.

Fuuko's half-conscious mind registered that she still had no idea where Mikagami got his bomb.

The normal society that goes to work everyday and sleep in the regular hours probably had no idea of the building's existence until it was gone. Fuuko looked at the debris, and feel the heart inside her, the heart that could still hurt for others, clenched. Again, she wondered why she chose to be a killer. Why she chose to make people miserable like herself.

Oh yeah, she forgot to remember why she was miserable in the first place.

In the dark part of the forest, where the sun was not facing and shining its light at, Fuuko knelt down. Cried. Cried for not the departed, but the people who were left to cry, just like her.

-----

"WHATTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Fuuko squeezed her eyes shut. "You see… this… that… then this again… You get the picture?"

Yanagi, Recca and Domon stared and slowly nodded. Fuuko sweatdropped.

"So the thing is that I'm going to England for a while."

"NOOOOO!!!! Don't go, honey Fuuko!!" Domon flung himself on her and clung.

*kick* *far, far away, a star shines down on mankind *

"Fuuko, why didn't you tell us earlier?" Yanagi asked in concern. "We could have gotten you more warm clothes or something like that!"

"Yeah! Why didn't you tell us earlier! We could have made a list of all the things we want you to buy!" Recca chipped in, a woeful expression on his face.

He got a punch in the nose.

"Hey! I'm not going there to play! I heard my Aunt's seriously ill!" Fuuko protested.

"I want to goooo with you!" Domon appeared beside her again, whining.

He got a punch in his face too.

"I'll be gone for less than two weeks, definitely," Fuuko confirmed. "Copy notes for me while I'm gone, okay?"

"How much gifts can I trade them for?" Recca asked sourly.

"I'll bring you back something with the label 'Made in England', I promise," Fuuko winked.

"Really??" Recca looked up excitedly, unable to believe it, coming from Fuuko.

"Yeah, something worth a hundred pounds."

"Wow! A hundred pounds converted to yen will be… what is it you're bringing back?"

"A hundred pounds of England dung!" Fuuko roared with laughter, at how gullible her friend was. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

The door to the roof opened.

"I'm going abroad too."

"Mikagami-sempai?" Yanagi said, surprised.

Recca started chasing Fuuko around the roof, like he never heard Mikagami. Domon started going after Recca for trying to hammer Fuuko, and they made merry trails of dust. Yanagi sweatdropped.

"Where are you going, sempai?" she asked politely.

"America. Visiting a college. Take care, Yanagi-chan. I'll be gone tonight."

With that, the door clicked shut again. Yanagi sweatdropped again, then turned to the big dustcloud in the middle of the rooftop. "M-minna… wait a moment… listen…"

---

Fuuko gave Yanagi a final hug, then watched her sniff a little. Domon lay on the floor, tangled a heap after trying to kiss Fuuko goodbye. Recca and Koganei stood by the side, yawning. It was 2 am in the morning, what Mikagami referred to as 'the day after tomorrow'.

Said Mikagami waited patiently for Yanagi to finish. Because of too much **indescribable sadness**, the boarding of the plane was delayed till the final call, when Fuuko untangled herself from a returned-to-consciousness Domon and Yanagi to go in together with Mikagami.

And as the team was on the way home, Recca wondered aloud, "Hey, guys, don't you find it funny that Mikagami and Fuuko are taking the same flight? I mean, one is going to London and one to Las Vegas…"

The team dismissed it from their minds, thinking that it was an around the world in one day flight.

* * *

Fuuko peered out of the window, looking at the thick layer of clouds beneath. Titanic was being looped on the TV screen, and she was sick of seeing a fat lumpy piece of flesh lying on the couch to be drawn. Mikagami was busy changing the programming of the games they provided onboard, into something more intellectual. How he was supposed to do that, she did not know or care.

True, she felt bad lying to her friends, but she could already feel the adrenaline coursing through her body (the stupid cliche) at the thought of finally having something more important to do than just being an escort. Maybe this time, she would find her mother's murderer… she gritted her teeth.

Mikagami had been watching Fuuko discreetly all along, and he noticed the tensed look on her face. She had been behaving weird since the day before, when she ran out after eating his food. And the nth time, he wondered what was it that made her choose her current profession. She was still young, with a good heart… Death, of course. Death that leads to loss that leads to pain that may lead to madness… 99% possibility she's seeking revenge…

He still remembered his own words at the funeral of her mother. He was right, the woman was dead, and no amount of crying would make her come back, make her open her eyes, make her smile again…

Mikagami involuntarily bit his lip. He had been through the same, and was still missing something; he knew better.

People said the dead always looked at peace, looked like they have left for a better world. Bullshit. Someone cold with blue-gray skin did not look peaceful. Someone with eyes wide open and whites showing did not look peaceful. Someone will half his brain missing did not look peaceful. No, they just look dead.

He was glad he never saw Mifuyu that way.

He had not been allowed to see his sister's body after they wheeled her into the emergency room. She went in there, with doctors and nurses by her side, the stretcher stained and soaked in blood. He could never forget the noise of the hurrying feet, the rattle as the stretcher moved along, the chill when the doors swung close, or the wait that was timeless and terrifying…

And of course, he could never forget that she never came out.

He was shaken out of his recollections when he felt something touched him. Fuuko had fallen asleep on his right shoulder, probably tired after the lack of rest. Good timing. If he continued on thinking, he would have felt like killing someone. Literally.

He wondered whether to wake her, then decided against it. He did not need it, but his eyes closed anyway, shutting out the world and his own thoughts so that he was unable to _think_, for the moment.

---

Baby blue eyes opened as the plane began its touchdown at the airport in Los Angeles. No trace of sleep remained, no yawn, no stretching. Tokiya Mikagami simply woke up. He tapped his partner sharply. Fuuko mumbled something and sleepily reached for her pillow, which was miles away.

Lifting a heavy eyelid, she groaned and stretched heavily. They followed the rest of the passengers down the plane, and waited patiently for their luggage. The two had not really come with anything bulky: a backpack each and an extra laptop in Mikagami's case. He was the one who took care of the custom procedures while Fuuko slumped down in a corner and slept away.

She was only half-awake when she followed Mikagami through the glass doors and watched foggily while the guard gave a curt nod and returned them their passports.

It was already early in the morning, and nearly afternoon when they reached their hotel. It was still Mikagami who checked in for them and he who lugged Fuuko into her room. He tipped the porter hurriedly before throwing his partner onto her bed in her room. It was a suite Mikagami had reserved for them, with two rooms, one small place to eat and watch TV, and a bathroom. Mikagami put on the Do Not Disturb sign at the door - he did not want chambermaids stumbling on the various illegal items that they were going to add to their suite soon.

---

"Ouuuuuuuch!" Fuuko groaned as she stretched painfully, sore and cramped after being still for so long the previous day. Mikagami ignored her, and called for room service.

"Stretch properly now. We're going out in the afternoon," he commanded. It was the next day, Fuuko having slept the previous day and night. It was good that she showed no signs of ill adjustment to the difference in time from Japan.

"Where to?" Fuuko asked lazily.

"We don't have weapons, and I'm not going to use Ensui."

"You mean…?"

"Going to get guns."

Author's notes

Those who have read the first version will know that this is rather completely different. I ended off at a different place too, which means I'll have to modify my chapter 2 a little to fit the rest in. because this getting guns crap is a new idea… that's why. And I don't want to keep those people who like this fic waiting any longer. I'm sorry, I know I'm slow…

The joke about England shit is er… a trademark of my old classmates… they loved the '100 pounds' pun.

So those few who have seen chapter 2 on the ml, please delete it off your mind, because there will be a slight modification in its chaptering.

Points I focused on in here:

  1. Moving the plot
  2. Explain Fuuko's reasons for joining the Company (as I've so conveniently named…)

Yes, I know point 2 is quite invalid, and it's not a good reason, but for my convenience, just think Fuuko is very emotional. After all, look at the big change to Mikagami.

Some short previews of the next chapter:

  * Mikagami… in disguise O_o
  * Hint of Fuuko's mother's murderer. And I don't think Fuuko is expecting it to be what it is.
  * Something goes wrong with their trying to retrieve information at the center. When I say wrong I mean totally wrong

Yes, that's all. I'm going to focus on the next part of my other fic, Can't Let You Go now. I know people like this fic better than that, but i promise the next chapter is going to be fun… I hope.

No, no amount of begging will make me change my mind.

*silence*

Okay, I CAN be bribed ^^;; but the price is high ^o^ if I get more than 15 reviews for this chapter of Darker Side alone, I'll do chapter 2 first. Impossible, right? (this chapter, I admit, is so boring, I want to cry) Yeah. That's why… just wait! (My stuff have been boring lately... i hope they will get better...)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the prologue.  
Thanks to everyone who put it on their favorites list.  
Thanks to Ferrum who encouraged me. Remember, peace comes after war and every war has an end.  
Thanks especially to Nefer for distracting me from school work with the all-wonderful MSN Messenger. You're a great help! *glomp* when my mum's breathing down my neck for me to do homework, you're the only one egging me on to do fics *heehee* the main source of evil… you rock!

______________________________________________________________________________ 

The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™. Characters in this fan fiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission from its creator and/or distributors of his work. All rights reserved to Anzai Nobuyuki and those who share the rights. This fan fiction is non-profitable and only written for recreational purposes.

© 2001 saturn de wicked™


	3. Mission 1 - Woman

The Darker Side

The Darker Side

Chapter II

**Mission 1 - Woman**

They walked in silence down the street. It was crowded with tourist, just like a city should be. People jostled one another around just to prevent themselves from being squeezed onto out onto the busy road. There was always a distance between the two, but they kept their pace constant and strode with purpose down one avenue into another. Their garbs were that of normal tourist teenagers, nothing more, nothing less. And all along, if one noticed, they walked side by side, never letting the human traffic deter them. Side by side, but never close enough to be acknowledged as acquaintances. They continued their walk, until the human shopping population dwindled into one or two homeless men sleeping by the roadside benches.

And yet, the distance between them never shrunk. It was long after wandering into the residential area of the lower class society that the female spoke, in mild irritation. "How far is that stupid place anyway? How much more to go?"

Mikagami adjusted his shades and closed the distance between them. "Half an hour more."

Fuuko growled and continued walking. Silence resumed. She felt a bit nervous about going into the den of illegal firearms dealers with only on ally. It was not the lack of guns around (she never depended on the filthily heavy mechanisms anyway) but rather the uneasy feeling that came from stepping into foreign and possibly hostile territories. Mikagami seemed to be cool, though, about everything.

Fuuko scowled darkly. Of course he was cool with everything. The day he flinched at a gun between his brows was the day gravity left Earth. She glanced over. His eyes were covered with the shades they picked up. Not those tiny round ones, but full ones that covered the whole eye, and the black lenses reflected rainbow colors. It helped to shield their identities at least a little too. Fuuko propped her own a little further up her nose bridge. She was not used to wearing things in front of her eyes.

Exactly thirty minutes later, Mikagami turned into a narrow alleyway that smelt of burnt cigar. The street was deserted already. They were somewhat in the less urban areas of the city, where only the less well to do ones congregated. Fuuko stubbed her toe on a random brick lying on the ground, and cursed. She was really not in a good mood, probably because she was perspiring like a pig from the heat and exercise while Mikagami have yet to break a sweat.

The alley was long, as well as dark. Its walls were covered in grime, and underneath them were faded graffiti drawn by kids in the past who were now fathers of fathers. It was not exactly dark. Dim would be the better word. Mikagami led the way, moving smoothly while Fuuko followed his long strides as best as she could. Before long, they came to a dead end, and Fuuko was ready to lose her temper when Mikagami knelt down and yanked the lid off the ground.

Fuuko looked at him in surprise, then as comprehension dawned, horror. "No, Mikagami, I'm NOT going in there."

It was darkness in the forgotten sewerage channel, just a steep drop, and light was not strong enough to reach the bottom. Fuuko grimaced. Mikagami just looked at her expectantly. "Don't decide to be a lady now, okay? Because you're not."

"What?!!!" Fuuko whirled around, fists ready.

"You're Tempest. Operator Tempest," Mikagami told her evenly. "Not a lady. Not a woman."

Fuuko relaxed and peered into the hole again. "How far to the bottom?" she inquired nervously.

"No more than ten feet. You won't break any bones." Mikagami waited, still holding on to the dirty metal cover. If one were to look more carefully, he would see that it was not as unused as it appeared.

"You've been inside before?"

"Twice."

"Okay…" Fuuko took a deep breath, and dropped herself inside without further thoughts. She only hoped her partner was right.

Her feet touched the bottom, and she made a soft landing. Yes, barely ten feet… she let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, the drop almost seemed bottomless. "I'm alive!"

"Out of the way," was the soft command as a body dropped down, landing beside her. Fuuko jumped, startled.

Mikagami pulled out a small flashlight, and started walking to their left without another word. Fuuko followed close behind. Now this was not her idea of fun at all.

"Who are you?"

Fuuko let out a small yelp, involuntarily. The voice was so sudden… It echoed around.

Mikagami seemed to be expecting it, though. "The waters are dirty, but where it leads the right one to, lies glittering jewels," he said, with a certain uncaring factor in his voice. The presence that spoke to them stirred, and a light was turned on some way in front of them.

"Follow me."

---

They came to a door, and stopped. Behind them their footsteps echoed away, then died. It was perfect silence before their escort knocked on the sturdy wooden door. It swung open. A short, fat man in his mid-forties glared up at them. He backed away from the door and left them to make themselves at home. The three stepped into the well-lit room. Fuuko winced, trying to get used to the sudden bright light, despite the shades.

When her vision cleared, she gasped in shock. It was an underground cavern all right, a man-made one. The place was big, and big crates were placed everywhere on the floor, making it seem more like a maze than anything else – a maze with crate walls. She had no doubt what their contents were. But there was just so… much…

Their escort turned to them, and Fuuko saw his face for the first time. But the thing was, the 'he' was a 'she'. The woman was a tall one, standing a little taller than Mikagami. Her physical built spelt muscles, and her voice was deep, enough to be mistaken for a man like Fuuko had.

She brought them to a desk in the corner, where there were a whole group of ten to fifteen men, lounging on the crates. They all looked up when the three approached, two clearly not their own.

"So," the woman thundered. "What do you want?"

"Hey, I remember that beautiful guy from a year back," one of her comrades called out from his perch high up. "Grown more sexy, kid." Chortles here and there with a wolf-whistle thrown in.

Mikagami ignored them. "A pair of UZI Eagle 941RS. Short slide. Another pair of P230 SIG-sauer SA/DA. Blued steel." Perfect English. Fuuko raised an eyebrow.

The woman raised an eyebrow too. "The fast business man, aren't we?"

"Would you prefer my lingering?" Mikagami challenged, voice smooth.

The woman gave him a disdainful glare and called to one of her mates sitting up high. "Short eagle, two! And P230!"

One of them jumped off and ran along the line of crates to the end of the underground room, where he jumped down and started prying open a box. The woman held out a hand. "In cash."

"Four magazines for each type," Mikagami added. "I'll pay up after I've confirmed the guns are all right."

They waited for a while for the firearms to be fetched. Fuuko nudged Mikagami. "Oi, I don't need two guns… one spare one will be enough. I use my Fuujin more."

Mikagami shrugged. "What if you drop it?"

"It's creepy here…" she muttered. "Those guys on the crates look like hyenas waiting to pounce…"

"Quiet. If they try anything, it's because you're dressing too skimpily," Mikagami replied.

Fuuko scowled. "I think if they try 'anything', it'll be on you, **sexy boy**."

Mikagami snorted. The one who had gone to get their purchase came back at the moment, holding the four pistols without cases. Upon a closer look, Fuuko saw that he could not be any older than herself. The errand boy of the gang, probably. Not that it was something little, because from what she could see, the organization was larger than it seemed. A lot larger.

Mikagami silently picked up the killing metal, one by one, from the desk they had been put on. With expert hands he dismantled them and pieced then back again, checking how smooth the parts ran on one another. Then he took up the black Uzi and pointed at the ground, then dry-fired it. That procedure was repeated on the other three guns, until he was satisfied.

His audience watched, stunned, at the speed at which he was going about checking the guns. Clearly some of them prided themselves on their expertise in that particular area, but one could not help but gape as they continued watching.

Mikagami threw one of each type to Fuuko, and she clumsily caught it. "Hey! Don't throw this like you're throwing an apple!"

Mikagami ignored her, and pulled out a folded envelope from the inside of his jacket. He offered it to the amazon woman. "Correct amount for the standard price."

While she counted the stack of notes, Mikagami loaded both guns with the correct magazines, screwed on a silencer each, and jammed the Uzi into a black leather holster he had at his waist, and the SIG-sauer into a pocket of his jacket. Fuuko, at a loss, held on to both. Mikagami handed her share of magazines over.

"Er… Mi-chan? I don't have hands to hold them now, if your eyes can't see."

Mikagami sighed. Taking her out is a shame to my reputation… "You have pockets, don't you?" he held her by the shoulder and stuffed two magazines into her jeans' pockets. It looked a litter bulky, but he doubted it would cause too much inconvenience. The other two, he loaded into the guns. "Do you have a bag or something?"

The woman looked up for a moment and motioned for one of the men to get it for him. the appointed one snorted and complied. He came back with something that resembled a crude handbag, but it would do. Mikagami put the two heavy metals in and threw it to Fuuko. "You need to learn how to use your brain."

Guffaws from the audience. Fuuko felt the temptation to shoot her partner, but she restrained herself. The woman looked up and nodded. "You can go. If there's any leak to the police, you're dead, okay, kid?"

Mikagami shot her a look of icy contempt. "Then try… we'll see who stops breathing first, the giant or the kid."

With that he strode out of the place. Deal success.

---

"You should be glad nothing went wrong," Mikagami remarked, feeling Fuuko's glare on him as they walked out of the alley into sunshine.

"Why?" More like a snarl.

"The last time I was there, last year, I walked in on a corpse with brain blown out. He tried to shoot the keeper with the gun he wanted to purchase," he recalled, voice casual, like talking about yesterday's dinner. "You wouldn't want it to be your brain that's spraying everywhere, will you?"

Fuuko swallowed, but did not allow her agitation to show. "No, but how nice if it were yours."

Silence from the iceman. Fuuko smiled triumphantly. "No rebuke? No clever remarks?"

Suddenly, Mikagami slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, intimately. Fuuko froze up like she had been shot. "Shh," he whispered, not looking at her. "Don't talk."

"What do you mean by this!!" Fuuko struggled against his grip.

Mikagami did not even look at her. "We're being followed, fool. Don't look behind. Use your ears."

Fuuko frowned and squirmed uncomfortably, but was otherwise, tolerant. "I can't _hear_ anything!" she whispered back.

"On the count of 3, I'm going to turn back and maybe, shoot. There's no one on these streets now, but be prepared to run," Mikagami said, nudging Fuuko's head towards his shoulders. She remained stiff. Really… we must have more chemistry…

"What am I supposed to do?" Their steady footsteps continued on. She was beginning to suspect that whoever their follower was, he had no intention of killing them as yet.

"Pull out your gun, point it at him. Don't shoot. Three."

Fuuko tensed.

"Two."

Her hand snaked towards the bag she carried.

"One."

Mikagami swirled around in one smooth motion, the sleek black Uzi in his hand. There was a small burst of orange light then a small zapping sound. The bullet bounced off the light pole it hit, with a loud 'ping'. Fuuko had only lifted up her gun.

There was a shadow that moved away from the pillar and into the alley beside, but no sound, no other movements.

Mikagami's expression did not change. He kept the gun again into his jacket and motioned for Fuuko to go.

"Who was that?" she demanded.

"Seventy percent chance someone sent by Maniac to spy on us, twenty percent chance an overseer from the Company, one percent chance someone sent to kill me or you or us both, one percent chance FBI, eight percent chance others," Mikagami dictated quietly. He resumed walking, like nothing had happened, or like that happened everyday.

Fuuko caught up with him after a moment of staring at the innocent light pole. "We are going to do nothing about it?"

"It's not good to follow someone into a place no room for moving. Never an alley," Mikagami replied calmly. In his mind, he was troubled, quite, about Fuuko's devastating lack of common knowledge. She was too reckless for her own good. Remotely, he wondered how she had been able to survive for so long.

"What are we going to do?" Fuuko asked, looking all around now.

"You're going to stop turning your head."

She aimed a punch at his head, but he stepped back. "Give me some proper answers!"

"Back to hotel to wait until night. We'll start our information collecting."

---

Mikagami sat in front of the mirror, looking at the reflection of himself. He reached out slender fingers to tuck in a stray strand of hair, now golden. Fuuko was going to freak when she saw him. Now that there was a large possibility of his target watching him, he did not want to take chances anymore. His target knows someone was hunting him and must even have known his exact identity to have sent someone to watch. This was one of the rare cases. But then again, he rarely took on other 'colleagues' of his.

He arranged his top that stopped above the navel. Someone my rank… to capture myself… No, he did want to be recognized at all, if possible.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

Fuuko peeked in.

And froze.

Stopped breathing.

Started hyperventilating.

Mikagami closed his eyes. "Any objections?"

"Y-y-y-y-y-you…" Fuuko stuttered, eyes bulging. "**Y-y-y-y-y-y-you…**"

"Yes, I'm disguised as a woman. Want to laugh?" Mikagami tossed his hair back, tossed his _curly, blonde hair_ back. The expert make-up on his face was well placed, accenting the baby blue eyes and the attractive paleness of his face. He has put a black hue to his eyelids, contrasting the color of his skin, and painted black lipstick to his lips.

Fuuko **staggered** up to him, and leaned onto the dresser for support. She did not know how to react, how to _feel_. Laugh? Or simply stare?

So she just gaped.

Mikagami dropped a black hair-tie into his pants pocket, and stood up. Fuuko raised a hand and weakly poked at his chest. His protruding chest. "T-t-that…"

"Fake of course, what do you think it was?" Mikagami frowned carelessly, making his way past Fuuko with thoughtless grace. The black leather pants he was wearing clung to the curves of his body, just like how his skin-tight top clung to him. It ended above his navel, showed nothing yet everything. The material was black in color and sleeveless.

Fuuko blinked, then shook herself out of her trance. Oh mine… am I sick or do I really think he's hot? Talk about the look of the devil… that black makeup… She buried her face in a hand. Oh, Fuuko Kirisawa, you're one big pervert! You're disgusting, grotesque, totally OBSCENE!!! But again, he did have a** damn good figure**. Drool-worthy, actually.

Fuuko conked herself on the head and stood up. Nope, no more fantasizing. Mi-chan is a FRIEND. (If one sets aside the fact that he's a bastard at all times.)

---

The brown-haired young lady slipped her hair-band into place and swept the mug of coffee off the kitchen table, settling down in front of the computer with it. Licking her lips, she logged on into her account. Someone was on her waiting list, and a click of the mouse told her the person had been there for more than half the day already. Humming softly, she clicked on his code number.

An image of a young man with flaming red hair came into view. He did a sort of miniature bow, bending as low as his desk would allow.

The woman leaned back into her swivel chair. "Report."

The man nodded politely and glanced at the papers in his hand. "Our own spies report that operatives Metallica and Tempest have been seen in LA. Their exact locations and relating data will be sent with the written report. Fifteen minutes before, they are seen along Turner Street heading north, three o'clock direction from their hotel. Metallica took Tempest along when he headed to purchase weapons from an illegal firearm distribution band. Our spy was discovered by Metallica when they were tailing the two in their return home.

"Discovered?" the lady's kind eyes hardened, and narrowed.

"Yes ma'am. Agent Hex was discovered by Metallica. Tempest and Metallica did not see his face, only his shadow. Also, he reported that there was another person tailing Metallica and Tempest who was disrupting his work. Identity unknown, but presumed to be former operative Maniac's underling."

The lady was in thought for a moment. "Third degree punishment for Agent Hex. Suspend him from his duties and attach him to a new operative. Find a more competent agent to take over Metallica. Make sure he knows the consequences of inadequacy. Continue."

"Yes ma'am. Operators Metallica and Tempest have used their real identities and passports for travel, but it is confirmed that they have been using cash since the start of the journey. The assets in Metallica's account have not been employed in any form of transaction as of yet. It is of concern that Operator Tempest has not participated actively or constructively to the current point. There is a possibility that her lack of experience is holding Operator Metallica back from working to his true potentials…"

The lady waved away the hesitation carelessly. "That is of no great concern. I have my own plans for their future. Those two can make a good pair if granted an adequate amount of time for chemistry to set in… Do you doubt my judgements, chief?"

"No! I mean, no, ma'am," the young man murmured. "May I make a query, ma'am?"

"Go on," the lady invited.

"Do we need to take into considerations the possibilities of operators Metallica and Tempest working as permanent partners?"

"No. I shall personally oversee their future and it shall be of no major concern to the intelligence bureau. You only need to deploy two units for my personal service. The two serving units should be equipped with in-depth knowledge of operatives Metallica and Tempest and functioning around the clock. I may require their knowledge and research for reference any moment. Any inefficiency or severance in duties will not be tolerated. Do you read me, chief?"

"Yes, ma'am. Orders are to deploy two units from the intelligence bureau into temporary service of the Leader. Consequences for imperfection or dissatisfaction in their conduct shall fall upon I, Chief of Intelligence as well as the offending unit," the man humbly repeated.

"Proceed with report."

"Operator Metallica and operator Tempest may be heading towards one of the most powerful information dealers in the globe. It is one of the more significant subdivisions of their international network. The front is a popular nightclub, but from the back of the place there is a way of getting to the center and purchase information about almost anyone. From records, Metallica had been there once already, and it is apparent that he believes in the quality and reliability of what he paid for. That is all I have so far. Any events out of prediction would be reported immediately upon realization. Otherwise, the next report would be in an hour's time, at 0100."

"You're dismissed," the lady said, stretching and taking a sip of her coffee. The screen flickered off. The room was dark again.

"Tokiya Mikagami…" She chuckled. "Soon, Tokiya… soon…"

---

Fuuko froze and literally turned into stone as she stood in front of the stairs that led to the underground nightclub. The big neon sign above the doorway was enough to make her turn tail and run back to the hotel. However, having caught the unsmiling yet somehow smug look Mikagami shot her, she gritted her teeth and started down the steps. Mikagami immediately pulled her back.

"Arrange your hair to cover your eyes, put on a bitchy smile and act normal," he commanded. "You're walking like you've been left overnight in the freezer."

The telltale vein popped out again on Fuuko's forehead. She gave a big scowl. "You have no right to boss me around, Tokiya Mikagami."

"I'm hereby _assisting_ you in not getting butchered by telling you to act like a normal teenager coming to have fun, not like a guy going into the bra department," Mikagami replied coolly. "Anyone can tell you're a new kid who's easy to drug and rape."

"I'm still _under-aged_, my dear senior," Fuuko batted her eyelids innocently. Then the sickly sweet voice turned murderous, "AND SO ARE YOU!"

"Age shouldn't be a problem or an obstacle to completing any assignments, amateur," Mikagami scoffed as he fished in his pocket and drew out two plastic cards, tossing one to Fuuko.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING AMATEUR, TOKI-HMM!!!" Mikagami unmercifully stuffed both his gloves into Fuuko's mouth, choking her next words. Beyond furious now, she spat the black leather back at Mikagami and caught him in a headlock. "I'm gonna kill you, I'm gonna kill you, I'm gonna kill you…"

Mikagami closed his eyes in resignation and with one swift motion, swept Fuuko off her feet with his lengthy legs and caught her by her hair. He quickly pursed her lips with his two fingers. "Don't scream out my name, amateur. I have no time to mess around with you now, so don't expect me to stand here and let you hit me for fun."

He let go of her and took off his jacket. Fuuko immediately turned and punched him in the face. Then of course, the whole process of arguing…

Ten minutes later, the two moved down the staircase into the underground club. Mikagami stuffed some cash in the bouncer's hands so that he did not comment on their age, then paid a sulky woman inside. She nodded to the door and they immersed themselves in the fumes and flashing lights.

**Do we always gotta cry  
Do we always gotta live inside a lie  
Life's just a blast, it's movin' really fast  
You better stay on top or life will kick you in the ass**

Another identical club from all the previous ones, Mikagami mused. Except that the music was a little better.

His eyes took in the moving mass of bodies that was always present in any club. So many, all dancing, losing themselves to the music, losing themselves from life… In a way, he envied them.

They wandered seemingly aimlessly into the crowd. It was horrible, Fuuko thought, grimacing. Some patrons were barely teenagers, and they were smoking, drinking… Something made her stop. Fuuko felt a rush of anger run through her. There was bunch of those kids at the booth she was walking past crowding around a young man, holding some tubes of plastic to their noses.

Drugs.

Fuuko's hair bristled and she stalked over to the crowd. She grabbed the youth by his collar and pulled him up from his seat. His eyes were glazed over and bleary, relaxed; he looked at her with those crazy eyes, not struggling. Fuuko shook him like violently. "Hey, you… do you know what you're _doing_? You're selling these kids _drugs? _Look at me, son of a bitch!"

He just stared. Slowly, he grinned. An arm went around Fuuko's waist and pulled her into his lap. He dropped onto the dirty sofa again. Fuuko, taken by surprise, found herself underneath him the next moment, smelling his thick and drug-tainted breath. He slurred something inaudible then began groping at her body. "HEY!! Get of-" The foul-smelling mouth crushed her lips.

She was not shocked. She was actually scared. Without thinking, she lashed out with her hand and let her sharp nails scratch him across the face, leaving five red bleeding lines. The kids around laughed madly, their distorted minds amused. The guy blinked. The pain registered the next second, and he slapped her sharply across the cheek.

"You!" Fuuko bit her lips in speechless anger and punched him in the face. He reeled back. She reveled in the freedom from the crushing weight and attempted at rolling off the dirty cushions. He recovered faster than she thought he would. Swearing in a hoarse, he grabbed her shoulders and rammed his knee into her abdomen.

Before they could do more harm to each other, the guy got off her body.

Or more correctly, was hauled off.

He was thrown at the kids sitting opposite to him. His body hit them flat in the face. But they were not angry. No, not at all. With fanatical eagerness, they screamed shrilly and began turning out all his pockets, and flailing hands and elbows knocked out the youth before he could protest. Mikagami looked down at the sofa, at Fuuko, silently.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked calmly, voice strong, carrying over the music.

She looked back at him stupidly, body shaking a little. Then she wiped her face with sweaty palms and let go of the breath she had been holding. Her fear and shame only lasted for a second before she jumped up and grabbed the young man from his mop of customers. She raised a fist in anger.

A cool hand caught her descending arm. "Stop."

Fuuko saw red at the moment. She dropped the drug seller and instead, whirled around to aim a punch at Mikagami with her free hand. The expressionless sword wielder swiftly jerked his head sideways, avoiding the sloppy effort easily. He caught her hand as she withdrew it for another punch. Fuuko, angered beyond sense, struggled uselessly against the unrelenting grip. "Let me GO, damn it! I want to teach that bastard a lesson!"

"He's already blacked out," Mikagami told her calmly. "Don't interfere, Fuuko."

Fuuko's eyes flashed. "They can't be more than fourteen! And that guy is selling them DRUGS, fuck it! He ought to _die_! He's taking away their lives! Let me GO!!"

Mikagami's grip did not loosen. "Their lives are drugs."

"But… _look_ at them!" Fuuko screamed. One or two of the crowd looked at her weirdly, some laughed, while others lay unmoving on the sofa, floor, glassy eyes empty. They stared. "They have parents! Families! And they're here hooking themselves onto drugs! Shit you, Mikagami, look at them!"

"If they were happy with their lives, they wouldn't have sought for a living death," Mikagami stated flatly. "Now go. That guy is already unconscious."

"That is NOT THE POINT!!!" Fuuko yelled, kicking futilely at her captor.

The change was distinct.

Mikagami did not reply. Rage was radiating off him in waves. Silence. Then he whispered slowly, __"Shut up, Fuuko. You don't know anything. You don't understand. So shut up."

She stopped moving.

I do not want this  
I do not want this  
I do not want this  
I do not want this

The music pounded into her head. For the first time, they seemed more significant than just noise. She shivered.

And don't you tell me how I feel  
Don't you tell me how I feel  
Don't you tell me how I feel  
You don't know just how I feel

The kids were silent. They stared at Mikagami, stared at her.  
  
****I stay inside my bed  
I have lived so many lives all in my head  
And don't tell me that you care  
There really isn't anything. Now is there?  
You would know. Wouldn't you?

They broke into senseless laughter. Mikagami gazed at her. The kids laughed.

You extend your hand to those who suffer  
To those who know what it really feels like  
To those who have had a taste  
Like that means something  


The music was tearing her head apart; she nearly screamed. Mikagami let go of her and turned stiffly; walked away. She just stood there, feeling a sudden urge to puke. The howling laughter behind her subsided, and ended. She looked at them, the expression on her face unreadable.

Then she ran as fast as she could in the crowd and fell in step with Mikagami. The urge to retch was stronger than ever. Mikagami gazed at her coolly. She bit her lips and returned the look. Their eyes held for half a minute. Fuuko could not read the emotion that seemed to glow in the baby blue eyes. If she did not know better, she'd say it was a lack of emotion. But… experience taught her that Mikagami was not who and what he pretended to me. The past ten minutes had proved that.

He held out a hand. "Come on, I'll take you to the rest room."

There, another freaky Mikagami. The new one who actually gave a shit about her state of mind.

Author's notes

I don't know what to say, just that I'm unsatisfied with this chapter. It was originally 21 pages long, Times New Roman size 8 with single line spacing. Then I decided it was too long, and decided to chop it into three parts, partly because I take a long time editing and I don't want people to wait. Now I think it's too short… I'm sorry, because of the cut up, those points in the preview section of last chapter have been cut away as well, save the disguise part. Really sorry…

I guess it's good enough to be posted… is it? I'm breaking my word on holding on to this until chapter 3 of Can't Let You Go (modified name) is out… guess I'm slow on that too.

I think I mentioned this on the ml, that I'm totally unfamiliar with nightclubs, possibly because I'm underage. I live in Singapore, so I'm not gonna risk getting hauled to the police station for trying to get inside just to get first hand experience to write a fic. So… everything is just from my imagination, and I know it's kinda too wild for normal places, that's why the setting is in one of the suburbs. Just take the place as kinda sleazy, for my convenience. When I'm old enough, I'm gonna bring a notepad with me and go check those places out.

Tell me if it's a little too dark or out of character, okay? OOC on Mikagami's part is intentional though. I did the research on guns, and got the specific models for their abilities, pros and cons. By the way, I did a drawing of Mikagami in his girls' clothes, wanna see? I assure you he is recognizable, really. It's just the top half, the whole profile is still in the makings. By the way, the woman who appeared in the middle of the story is NOT an original character. Who is she? Go figure.

I'll stop now, because my notes are always too long. Hope readers will stick with me until the next part, where the fun actually begins (with the mission).

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™. Characters in this fanfiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission from the creator and are copyrighted to their respective owners.

First set of lyrics incorporated into this fanfiction belong to Limp Bizkit, from the song Take A Look Around of album Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water.

Second set of lyrics incorporated into this fanfiction belong to Nine Inch Nails, from the song I Do Not Want This of album The Downward Spiral.

© 2001 saturn de wicked


	4. Mission 1 - Back View of Silver and Blac...

The Darker Side

The Darker Side

Chapter III

**Mission 1 – Back View of Silver and Black**

It was not a pleasant place, to say the least. It reeked of cigarette smoke and heavy concoction of a variety of perfumes. The tiles on the walls were either cracked or missing, and it was damp. A tap was leaking, and obviously had been for quite some time already, for the whole floor was layered by chilling water.

In short, it was not a place any person with an agreeable sense of cleanliness would want to be in.

Fuuko treaded her way carefully across the restroom floor. At least the place was empty. And no major orgy going on, no gang rapes, no nothing. Wow.

She looked at Mikagami in front of her, leading the way. It was annoying the way he always managed to make himself look good, no matter what outfit he was wearing, the… terrain he was in, or the condition of his body. He gets stabbed, he looks cool, he wins a match, his opponent simply fades into the background, he speaks, and you can see the **words pounding the other person into the ground**. Putting it simply, he was infuriating.

And now, while Fuuko splashed water all over herself, the man looked like he was gliding on the surface. That was annoying too.

The earlier condemning atmosphere had been lifted a little, replaced by a silence. Fuuko wondered what Mikagami's words hinted at.

"Shut up, Fuuko. You don't know anything. You don't understand. So shut up."

Was it something from his past…? Fuuko only knew the tone was cold, more than cold. A kind of deadly statement. Like how those horror movies killers whisper before they kill a crying woman. Only adding in a real killer. And minus the helpless woman.

"Go into one of the cubicles, it'll be dryer."

Fuuko jumped. "Oh… okay. Sure." The same deep voice… but back to a normal tone. Creepy. "Hey, it's the pink door, Mi-chan. Are you sure you should be here at all? Kind of weird. And this place is so quiet," she blabbered as she skipped into a cubicle on tiptoes. Mikagami followed her in and closed the rusty metal door.

"If you really want to enter the men's rest room, I'll follow you. And no, this is not quiet. Am I the only one hearing that tuneless song blasting out there?" Mikagami turned to face her.

Fuuko jumped. Under the dim light of the failing bulb, his porcelain-like white skin looked like it was giving off a light glow of its own. The silver fringe fell from behind the ears and covered the intense blue eyes. Smooth hands reached up to comb them back roughly. They fell back. The body hugging long-sleeved crop top he was wearing was revealing too much. And Mikagami was not skinny at all, she saw. Oblivious to most people, he actually had lithe muscles on his slender body, that of a sprinter, not bulging, but smooth. Some warm feeling appeared in her lower abdomen.

"I know I'm very tempting, but staring is rude," that voice cut in. Mikagami was glaring. The reassuring old glare. Yeah, the **SD-able Mi-chan** was back. The **helpless-to-Fuuko-sama's-charms **one. **The one that** **can be bullied**.

"Who were you saying staring at you?" Fuuko blinked innocently. "Is there some pervert hiding in here?" She looked around for the effect of it all.

Mikagami did not respond to that. "What prompted you to wander away just now?"

Fuuko's muscles tensed, and she ground her teeth. "The whole ludicrous affair, of course! I don't know what big problems they are facing in life or whatever they are unsatisfied about, but WHY resort to drugs? Have you seen their eyes? They're crazy!"

A heavy ambience settled. Mikagami lowered his eyes. Softly, barely audible, he replied, "You said it, you don't understand. You aren't them, you aren't living their lives. You only saw the madness in the eyes; did you see the torture? Did you see the life they had forsaken? No, Fuuko, you didn't." He paused. Then looked at his right arm. "Sometimes… even when you have a goal in life, you can't find the will to carry on living, because the reality, the _now_, is too desolate, too hopeless."

Fuuko was surprised at the speech coming out from the stoic man, but listened intently all the same. He did not seemed inclined to continue, only flatly concluded, "What I'm trying to tell you is, don't interfere with them." You're only an outsider.

He brushed back his bangs. "Come on, show me where you're injured."

Fuuko gently touched her face and winced. "Shit. It's the face, that son of a bitch. He actually dare to slap ME! Me, the goddess of wind and beauty Fuuko-sama!"

"That shouldn't be any problem. Anything else?" Mikagami asked.

Fuuko blinked as if remembering **something important**, then rushed to the tap embedded in the wall. Mikagami watched her choke and gurgle with the water and frantically rubbed at the insides of her mouth. He smirked secretly. "What, his mouth didn't taste good?"

Fuuko turned from her obsession with the water to glare at him. "Shut up, or I'll blow the shit outta ya."

Mikagami complied and watched for five more minutes. "Your first kiss?"

Fuuko straightened. "What do you think?"

Mikagami's raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Fuuko sulked.

"Oh," Mikagami dead-panned.

"Che, what a stupid way to… never mind," Fuuko gritted her teeth. Then grinned. "Is Domon any better?"

Mikagami snorted. Silence hung thick for a while. Then, with feigned brightness, Fuuko asked, "Have you had your first kiss yet, Mi-chan?"

He did not reply. He just stared at the wall opposite him. And smiled humorlessly. "Yes."

"When?" Fuuko was interested. Intrigued, even.

"When I was… eleven? Twelve?"

"What?! I mean… that's so young…"

"… …"

"Who's that lucky girl?"

"Don't know. Never told me her name."

"Huh?!"

"Don't ask, okay?" Mikagami snapped sharply. He glared at the wind girl, then chilled. "I believe there's another place hurting you. Don't think you can worm it past me."

Before Fuuko could retort anything, she was pinned to the wall by the throat, held there by Mikagami's forearm. He was not rough, but quite the opposite. "H, hey!" she protested weakly.

"Open your mouth," he commanded. Fuuko, confused, opened hers wide. "Hut ah eu hrying hu du?"

He lifted Fuuko's tanktop and stuck the end into her mouth. Reflexively, the girl raised a hand to slap him, disgusted. He caught the hand even without looking, and manipulated it into pushing Fuuko's own gaping jaws shut, clamping down on the bit of tanktop. "I'm not going to rape you. Just hold that thing there and don't move."

He released her hand and press gently at her exposed midsection. Involuntarily, Fuuko winced and cringed back. "Hn, worse than you make it out to be, huh?" Mikagami applied a little more pressure with his hands. A muffled sound emitted from the closed mouth. A few more pokes. "The weight of that guy didn't land on your ribs. It should be alright. You'll have a bruise tomorrow." So be a little less active…

"Erm… okay…" Fuuko released her tanktop and asked, "Lemme go now, k?"

Mikagami backed off and turned to walk out. "Oh, and remember, Fuuko," he frowned and turned back to her. "Don't consume anything here. I don't want you out of commission."

"What do you mean?" Fuuko asked slowly, a faint idea forming in her.

"Drugs. In drinks and food," he explained. "Date-rape drugs, like GHB."

"G what?" Fuuko asked again, a frown creasing her face. "For hell's sake, talk in simple commoner's language, Mi-chan."

It's your incapacity of mind… "I want you to remain functioning," he started to move off again. "Just don't drink anything, unless I hand it to you."

Fuuko looked at her hands and wrinkled her nose. She stunk of alcohol from that… shit. She called out to him, "I think I need to clean myself up a little. And puke. Or at least, disinfect my mouth. You go out first."

Mikagami nodded and turned to go. Then, he paused. Turning back, he approached Fuuko and leaned close to her face, causing her to shrink away. "W-what?" Fuuko asked nervously.

Mikagami tilted his head and scrutinized the red mark on Fuuko's cheek. Slowly, he reached out a hand and touched it, barely, but still, it was contact. His finger brushed on the stinging part in a soft caress. "Bad slap… bear with it."

Then, he was off, again walking so perfectly that he seemed to glide. "Waiting outside," he said as he pulled open the door leading outside, and slipped out into the music.

He was behaving strange, as his mind reside in the neutral border between assassin and orphan. The presence of the wind girl had upset his delicate balance of personality switchover. In a way, he had a link to the 'normal' life with him, and that link was refraining him from thinking and acting like how a killer should. Mikagami leaned against the wall and examined his fingers.

Fuuko's face had felt soft.

---

Fuuko seemed really flustered when she finally saw Mikagami again. For what reason, the brilliant young man could not fathom, and was as clueless to the cause as the victim of embarrassment herself. "Come on, don't wander off this time."

Mikagami led the way, expertly walking with a subtle but sexy rhythm to the hip, while a small smile played on his lips. Fuuko watched him in fascination. Another new Mikagami – the pretender. There was no flaw with his acting, and with the change in appearance, he passed more for a woman than Fuuko herself.

That thought hit her with a surge of annoyance. **Goddess of beauty **and the wind subsequently felt **squashed and insignificant**.

She looked around. People were kissing and dancing wildly on the dance floor. The disco lights ran over, giving them different colors each time. She was looking at the sea of people when she felt something cold grasp her right calf.

"ACK!" Fuuko squeaked as she jerked her leg away from the pale hand. A man with tousled hair crawled out of the dance floor, stepped upon by many other dancers.

Fuuko looked at him apprehensively, ready to strike if he showed any signs of… aggressiveness. He laughed weakly then collapsed on the ground again, still laughing. Fuuko inched away. What was WRONG with the people here, anyway? Fuuko eyed him a while more then turned away. Zipper unzipped, jeans stained, Fuuko did not even want to imagine what he had been doing out on the dance floor. She ran a little, squeezing through the crowd, and caught up with Mikagami.

He was heading towards the bar, it looked like.

"I'm starting to regret coming here… it's contaminating my innocent mind…" she muttered fiercely into Mikagami's ears so he could hear her over the music.

Mikagami gave her a small smile, and she caught the subtle mocking. "You are free to return to the hotel and wait. You aren't making yourself useful."

"Hey!" Fuuko hissed, restraining her fist.

"Can you drink?" he abruptly changed the topic.

"I thought you told me not to touch anything here?" Fuuko shot back, finding the slip.

"Just in case. Can you?"

"No prob with beer, always drinking with Recca. I hold my stuff better than him and Domon combined!"

He did not say anything after that.

_**I took a walk around the world to  
Ease my troubled mind  
I left my body laying somewhere  
In the sands of time  
I watched the world float to the dark  
Side of the moon  
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah**_

She fingered her hair nervously and wished she had Mikagami's indifference. Anyway, she was staring at her partner's interesting hair color when she suddenly noticed he had very nice legs for a man. Or even a woman. His skin was pale and made more ghostly by the disco lights. There was not a trace of ugly hair whatsoever on the smooth muscles moving to the unhurried walk. Top the above mentioned with a cute ass and Fuuko now felt difficult to _divert_ her attention away from his lower body.

It wasn't until somebody grabbed at Mikagami's hand that she shook herself out of the mild trance. Damn, I'm straying unhealthily… It was a coarse-featured middle-aged man, slack against his seat in a drunken stupor. (Fuuko wrinkled her nose.) His lazy eyes turned lecherous as he grinned at the expressionless Mikagami. "Hi, ba-*hick*, baby. How mu-*hick* much for one *hick* hour? *hick*"

Mikagami put on the small smile again and ran gentle fingers across the man's forehead. Fuuko looked on in surprise, as a strange feeling rose up from her guts. It made her sort of… sick, to have the beautiful boy and the drunkard _together_ in her range of vision.

"You can't afford the price," Mikagami whispered, pulling away his hands.

The man grabbed Mikagami's slender wrist again and gave another toothy grin. This time, Mikagami curled his index finger and slowly, deliberately, jabbed the man's temples with the second joint. He fell back limp. Mikagami walked on, like nothing had happened. Fuuko spared the unconscious man another look, then hastily caught up with his eccentric partner. She gave an inconspicuous nudge. "Hey, he's not dead, is he?"

"No, idiot." I'm an assassin, not a freelance murderer…

With that, Mikagami's smile widened and he continued on. Fuuko blinked stupidly, then hastily caught up with the disappearing figure. She tugged his arm urgently. Mikagami turned and put an arm around her waist in an affectionate way. "What?"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!" Fuuko yelled, alarmed, as she slapped away the arm automatically. Her hair was standing on end at the sudden contact of skin with Mikagami. Sudden contact not initiated by her.

"Oh fine," Mikagami shrugged and tossed his hair the other way. "What?"

Fuuko stood stiffly two metres away from him. "What did you do to that guy?"

Her partner resumed walking. "Only knocked him out. My hand just happen to be strong. Now smile, little girl. You don't happen to live in a morgue, do you?" Mikagami winked at another passing young man.

Fuuko seethed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"No. I was not the one to choose the woman disguise. Now you have to live with this sickening attitude," Mikagami hissed into her ears. Louder, he said, "So you shouldn't complain, Fuuko-chan, eh?"

"Right, right. So where exactly are you going, boss?" Fuuko growled. "English is my failing subject, and I don't plan to execute my wonderful oral skills here."

"Don't let others get the wrong idea with that," Mikagami looked at her strangely. And added quietly, "Don't worry, I'll talk. Just don't drink anything. Or eat. And be careful. You're attracting unwanted attention."

They found themselves two seats at the counter. Fuuko had a good figure, that was for sure, and good looks, for that matter. But at the moment, it seemed that her swoon-worthy appearance was being squashed flat by the mere existence of a revenge-fanatical sissy. She inexpertly hid her irritation as Mikagami _glided_ onto his seat, and looked around in mild interest. He tossed his hair elegantly.

The all-famous veins made their appearance once again, coming back tenfold. Discreetly, she hissed, "This is not a time to ENJOY yourself, amateur."

Mikagami _tossed_ his head again in her way, looking at her with a measured amount of feminine scorn, whether pretended or actual, Fuuko did not know. "Now what do you know about this place, young lady?"

Fuuko snorted in disgust. "I know we have to take some action and not sit here pretending to be sexy."

Eyes narrowing, Mikagami reached out with lightning speed and grabbed a handful of Fuuko's hair, pulling her roughly towards him. Her face registered shock, then anger. Mikagami saw the change in expression. He smiled. Gently, he leaned closer and ran his lips up Fuuko's jaw line to her ear, then giving a little bite. And whispered, "I'm not Tokiya Mikagami of Hokage now, got it, sweetheart? You're seating here with Metallica of the Company, full-fledged assassin and terrorist, at least seven years more experienced than you."

He let go of her tense body. He could see disquiet in her eyes, maybe even a trace of fear. Calmly, he turned back to the counter and signaled for the bartender. Fuuko seemed to recover from her shock pretty quickly. She hissed angrily, grabbed his tank top and yanked it hard. "Thank you for the lecture, sempai."

Mikagami stared coolly at the hand on his clothe and Fuuko released him with a poisonous glare. The bartender stepped over with a little smile. "Can I help you, pretty?"

Mikagami's smiled sweetly and let his eyes scroll down the list of cocktails and other alcohol behind the lady. With a bored dismissive gesture, he drawled, "Bartender's special."

"Right away," the woman picked up a glass and rinsed it under a tap.

"With receipt," Mikagami added as he turned to watch the crowd.

Fuuko saw the woman pause for a moment before resuming her work with efficiency. The vodka went in together with something that was labeled Nassau Royale. She watched the colors mixed as it was stirred. Fuuko wondered how people could remember that many recipes. She rested her head on her palm and watched the fruit being cut.

Mikagami seemed to have spotted the thing/person that he was searching for, because when he turned back, he had a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

"What?" Fuuko asked curiously.

"Nothing," Mikagami replied offhandedly, pushing some notes across the counter. The bartender slid a receipt to him, which he pocketed with grace. Then he was standing up and pushing the drink to Fuuko. "For you. Safe."

Fuuko blinked. But her partner was already lost in the dance floor, melting into the moving crowd. Hey!!

---

Mikagami moved through the mass of bodies, merging with the smells of sweat, perfume and carelessness. The lights flashed different colors every second, and the faceless people were tinted different shade with it. He moved across nearly to the other side of the dance floor, then tapped broad shoulders clothed in red.

The man turned, and raised his brows at the sight of Mikagami.

Mikagami did not say anything, but flashed a sultry smile and held out his hand. An invitation to dance. The man hesitated before taking his hand and letting him lead the way into the center of the crowd. Mikagami took a quick glance at the direction of the bar, but could not see a thing. He only hoped Fuuko had the sense to wait. Then he turned back to the man he had dragged along, and started to dance.

His partner gave a lop-sided grin and followed suit, letting his eyes roam and linger on the beautiful stranger's body. The crowd pressed them close together, almost sparing them no moving space.

The music changed to light techno, and Mikagami pretended to close his eyes, losing himself to the beat. He could feel the pulsating crowd moving him, and when bass drum came in, he let himself be pushed towards his partner. Then he caught the broad hand with his slender pale ones, and pushed a piece of paper over. "I know it's you. Make it quick," he murmured into his ears. The man did not look the least surprised.

Mikagami waited as the receipt was taken, and a coin was pushed into his waiting hand. He gave a last smile, then blew a kiss and drifted off, dancing with the beat.

---

Fuuko was confused. Fuuko was angry. Fuuko was feeling a little off beat and light-headed.

Damn, it must have been the drink.

It was all Mikagami's fault…

Damn him. Fuuko restrained a giggle.

Her thoughts were still muddled when someone stepped between her and the person taking Mikagami's seat. That someone had silver hair, and pushed a coin over to the bartender who had been watching her discreetly with an amused glint in her eyes. Ah… Fuuko knew… she restrained another giggle.

The woman slipped the coin into her pocket then lifted up the barring table for Mikagami to cross. He walked past her, like it was the most expected thing to do. "The girl too."

"She seems pretty immature…" the bartender gave Fuuko an appraising look as she went past her, not knowing what was happening, but following her only friend in miles. Fuuko scowled, but said nothing. "Unlike the beautiful lady, of course."

The woman put down the table again and rang a small bell. The door behind her opened and a young man in sloppy uniform sauntered out. He eyed Mikagami in interest, but at a look from the woman, took up his position at the counter. She held the door open and ushered the two in before locking the three of them on the other side. Almost as soon as the lock clicked, her smile was plucked off and she swept her hair backwards, getting rid of the sexy but irritating fringe. In small precise steps, she led them out of the small empty bartenders' lounge through another door into a cold stone corridor.

Fuuko and Mikagami followed her wordlessly. Fuuko found the drastic change in attitude unnerving. The lady marching in front of them was no longer the bitchy airhead she had seemed. In her place was some cool professional who knew her work enough to trust her life on it. They stopped at another door (a strong metal one this time) at the end of the passage. The lady turned to face them, eyes calculating. "You're allowed to bring your weapons in, but I'm going to search you for explosives and communicating devices."

The two patiently obeyed by the procedures. When the bartender was finished, she grimly nodded to them and pressed a button on the wall beside her. A small square next to that slid open, revealing a hand-print identification panel and a crowded keypad. "My alias is Chameleon, ranking in one of the higher lines; you won't want to try any tricks," the lady informed them as she swiftly keyed in series of code and placed her palm on the identification panel. The machine gave a satisfying beep and the heavy metal door in front of them slid open silently.

After the door was more corridor, this time with doors leading off both sides. They were led to the end and into an elevator. Mikagami opened his mouth for the first time since they entered the place, "Let us use different rooms. I don't want to waste time."

Chameleon nodded. She pressed the button for the third level. As the elevator sent them up, Fuuko glanced around at the interior of the lift. It was more than the average passenger elevator, one could see. There were cameras literally watching every inch of the space within the confinement of the metal sides. On top of that, there were bugs transmitting their conversation, should the guards wish to listen, and from Fuuko's knowledge, they were sensitive and expensive bugs, able to catch every whisper.

She glanced at Mikagami. He was, as usual, staring off into space blankly. A tinkle sounded, followed by a mechanic voice, "Level 3. Please slot in admission card and key in admission code."

Chameleon drew out a silver card from some unseen mysterious pocket and pushed it into the slit beside the 'door close' button, then swiftly punched in a few numbers. The two heavy doors slid open silently, followed by another two doors behind them. Fuuko raised an eyebrow. What kind of place was this anyway? Military base?

The trio stepped out into another long corridor, but this time, an expensively furnished one. Quaint lanterns were hung on the wall of both sides, in which scented candles were lit. They were the only sources of light in the whole carpeted passage. Mikagami and Fuuko followed their guide past several strong metal doors leading off the hallway before being stopped at another identical one. She punched in another chain of numbers on the keypad and pushed open the door. The room was very compact, containing only a table, a chair and a computer. The opposite end of the room was black-tinted glass from ceiling to floor, over-looking a lonely road. What was surprising was that the non-glass walls were plated with metal all over. Without the glass wall and furniture, it would have looked like a prison cell.

"Right, the lady goes first," Chameleon commanded after a moment of silence. "The girl will be shown to another room."

Mikagami stepped in silently. Fuuko's eyebrows twitched at the uses of 'lady' and 'girl'. Her head was starting to come back to her. The fog receded…

"You will be released from the room when you have completed the transaction," Chameleon said, keying in more numbers on the number pad. The door swung close.

Mikagami stood still for a while. Then, he reached out a hand to knock on the wall. It felt thick. Soundproof…

He had only been to this place once, but everything was as he remembered – very secretive. Even if the FBI decided to drop in for a check, there would be no evidence of any illegal activities going on. That was perhaps one of the reasons why the information centre had survived for such a long time.

He pulled the chair over and sat down in front of the computer. The screen saver deactivated as soon as he took control of the mouse. The program open was something like a chat room. Some words appeared in the blank window.

Welcome. Please state the type of information you wish to purchase.  
Mikagami began typing.  
__Recent sightings and profile of code Maniac from the Company.

Reply: Searching.

He waited patiently.

Reply: Subject is a registered secret member of this centre, and therefore, identity is subjected to protection from anyone with exception of the committee board. We are unable to disclose any of subject's information.

The muscles in Mikagami's neck began to tense as he read on. Something in him warned him of a disaster to come.  
  
_In addition, subject has paid the centre to eliminate any buyers attempting to obtain subject's information. However, only half the transaction is completed. We can still provide a minimum of subject's profile if requested. Do you still wish to have it?  
  
Contents: Basic Profile  
Price: US$50,000  
Quality: 6/10  
  
_Mikagami pulled his gun out from his jacket and continued.   
  
_Yes.  
  
Reply: Please place cash in the open slot and wait.  
  
_Mikagami drew out a bundle of cash from the same pocket and placed it carefully in a slot in the table. It closed up.  
  
_Reply: Counting amount.  
  
_The grip on the gun tightened. Suddenly, a buzz sounded from the computer and three messages popped out at the same time, one a neutral blue, one in green and the other in red.  
  
_Red: Subject's incomplete transaction completed.  
Green: Amount correct. Information processing.  
Blue: Both transactions were completed at the same time.  
  
_Mikagami stood up abruptly, raising his gun to a ready position.  
  
_Reply: Therefore, go to HELL.  
  
_Without any warning, some of the panels in the wall slid open. Small tubes were revealed and invisible gas began hissing out. Mikagami's mind reflexively went into survival mode. Poison…  
  
Instinctively, he stopped breathing. Raising his gun, he tried blasting at the door, but not so much of a scratch appeared on the metal. More annoyed than panicked, Mikagami turned and shot at the glass, but the bullets bounced off it too. Bulletproof?! That was when a trace of doubt began to show itself.  
  
Then, more of the panels slid open to reveal other horrors. Machine guns.  
  
----- 

Fuuko was led back to the elevator, to her surprise. "Aren't I going into some isolation cell too?"

Chameleon pulled out a palmtop from her mysterious pocket and wrote something inside. After a while, she replaced it again. "No, the other rooms in this level are all in use. You'll have to take another on the next level."

Fuuko followed the woman silently into the elevator (but to get in, she _again_ had to key in more numbers). They went up to the fourth level (card, admission code, open sesame); the furnishing was similar to that of the third level. The light was just as dim but the aroma of flowers was stronger.

Fuuko was shown to a room at the extreme end of the corridor. The door shut softly and she was left alone with the computer. Sighing, she flopped down onto the chair and examined the screen. It seemed like one of the chat-rooms she always visited. A line of words appeared.

Welcome. Please state the type of information you wish to purchase.

Fuuko pondered over it.   
__Something on this assassin called Maniac. I'm not sure who the hell he is, but what you are giving must be good. Or I'll kick your ass.

Reply: Searching.

At the main intelligence control centre…

The agent addressing Fuuko sighed regretfully at what he was given. He nudged his partner. "Hey, look, another one looking for this Maniac person. Two in a row?"

His partner shrugged. "I've already done as the bosses commanded. My other end should just be about dead already."

Fuuko's agent was about to give a negative reply when another window popped out.

Head of Central Intelligence: Show video code 8675. Contents = requested information.   
The agent faltered.  
  
_Subject is a registered member of the centre.  
  
Orders remain unchanged.  
  
Executing orders.  
_   
The screen flickered on again. This time, the lady was awaiting. Immediately, she queried, "Has my order been approved, chief?"

The man on her screen nodded. "Yes, ma'am. The video should begin in a minute's time."

"Good. Contact me again at 0200."

Fuuko was already getting very impatient. Had the other end decided to take a lunch break? Then the words appeared: 

Information located in the form of a video.  
Price: US$33,000  
Quality: 5/10

Do you wish to view it?

Fuuko sighed and checked her wallet. Damn. With this amount of money, I can buy a house of my own… Grudgingly, she clicked on 'Yes'. Never mind, the money's Mi-chan's…

The slot opened and Fuuko chucked in the cash, mumbling something inaudible, but definitely curses.

Reply: Amount correct. Now you shall be shown the video. We shall bear no responsibilities if the information misfit your desired purchase. When the video has finished running, your usher will be back to take you away.

The lights in the room dimmed as the screen went black. There was pure silence for a few seconds before the screen revived in company of the very familiar bustling noise of a mall.

It was a woman. A woman at the window of a departmental store. Her back was facing the camera, a little unfocused, like the film was taken from far away.

The screen flashed to a small silver pistol, silencer screwed on, and a pale hand holding it slack. A metallic ring adorned the middle finger; it seemed somewhat familiar.

Fuuko frowned, trying to recall where she had seen it before__.

The screen zoomed out. The owner of the pale hand and the shopping woman were standing at opposite sides of a square used to display promotional goods, now empty of anything but shoppers. It was a Japanese mall, one could observe. The two points of focus were no more than patches of blurred color.

Then the screen zoomed in again, still focused on the square. The person holding the gun was wearing some top with black sleeves, which was all that could be seen. The rest of the person remained in shadows of a pillar. Discreetly, the grip on the pistol tightened. The hand brought it up slightly, barrel directed at the woman, at hip level so the eyes of the crowd easily missed it. Cold light gleamed off the gun. It was beautiful in a sick way.

The angle of filming changed. Now the camera was behind the gun person. He/she was wearing black jeans, which was all that could be seen from that height. He/she remained still for a few minutes, watching the woman.

I pay tens of thousands to watch people shop in a mall… Fuuko's vein floated up.

Then, for three seconds, the crowd parted slightly. There was one clear stretch of open space between the gun and the woman.

Time did not slow for the bullet to be seen silently leaving the barrel. Fuuko could not see anything travelling the distance between the two There wasn't enough time to scream; there wasn't even blood. All she knew was that, the next moment, the woman was on the ground, shopping bags around her.

Fuuko frowned. Was this a film of one of Maniac's mission? It could have been snipped off a movie for all she knew. And this lousy piece of work did not even reveal the guy's looks! Fuuko paused in her thoughts, then her eyes softened in sadness. What happened to me…? When have I become this heartless…?

Her silence aided the passers-by' oblivion of her mishap – students giggled at the cute salesperson, the guy rolled his eyes, elderly ladies shook their heads at them, and the bullet-impaled woman lay on the ground. The scene was so surreal one would laugh.

It was no lesser than one minute before someone lower his eyes and saw the still woman on the ground. That was when the commotion started. The slight trickle of blood from a small wound in the chest had collected in a large pool of crimson, staining the red carpet a darker shade.

Before the circle closed in around the woman, the camera zoomed in on the woman's pale face.

Fuuko mind slowly, ever so slowly, went numb.

It was no pretty sight. There was no dainty trickle of blood from the corner of the mouth, but splatters all over the face. She was convulsing a little despite her unconsciousness. Her features were friendly, giving a motherly kind of feeling.

Fuuko recognized the brown hair. Fuuko recognized the amiable face. Fuuko recognized the familiar flowered shirt.__

Fuuko recognized her mother.

The world's forever-occurring noises and sounds were muted out at that moment. There was only the blood. She could only see the blood.

The deep red blood.

Fuuko tried to breathe, but she could not force the air out of her lungs. She wanted to scream, but her jaws were trembling too much. She needed to cry, but the pain was too agonizing.

One minute passed. The screen had froze at that one close-up of the face. For one whole minute. Her hands felt wet. She looked down and saw her nails digging into her palms, forcing cherry-colored blood to ooze out. Fuuko stared blankly at her hands. Blood again.

It was common sense rather than pain that told her to relax her tight fists. Physically, she felt nothing. Her palm did not hurt. Her body was numb. Unlike her heart, it was successfully insulated against the pain by…

By what? She asked herself. Pain? Sadness? Fury?

Yes, that was it. She was angry. In fact, she was downright murderous.

The scene finally switched. The body in the shadows moved. Turned. Walked away. Merging into part of the crowd. Fuuko only saw his back.

And the long silvery hair.

  
Author's notes  
Aye aye, saturn has been resurrected from a death sleep by… erm… what? Don't know, but it's not a kiss. I don't like this chapter, as usual, but it'll have to do. I'm sorry my writing is degrading tremendously… I don't know why… anyway, this was written long ago, before my other birthday series started, and I didn't bother to do a rewrite, so er… sorry…

For those who think the 'go to HELL' thing is a little old-fashioned, I'll just say I have use for this little phrase later on ^^  
  
By the way, I'm going to have a webpage soon! It's an archive of Flame of Recca fics but I only have about 50, as of now. Will try to add twenty more to the numbers before I launch it.

Some fanarts not related to this fic by me:  
http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/vevolution/reccaarts/artclass01.jpg  
http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/vevolution/reccaarts/artclass02.jpg

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™. Characters in this fanfiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission from the creator and are copyrighted to their respective owners. 

Lyrics incorporated into this fanfiction belong to Limp Bizkit, from the song Take A Look Around of album Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water.


	5. Mission 1 - Not a Killer

The Darker Side

The Darker Side

Chapter IV

**Mission 1 – Not a Killer**

The screen blanked out. Black, empty, dark, black. Like the wind girl's mind.

Now there wasn't even fury. Everything dissolved in the black black vortex. It was strange, but a relief. Her mind was clear again. It was ironic. Clear of distorted thoughts. Replaced by two simple colors. Silver. Silver and red.

The door opened, and Chameleon beckoned her out. Fuuko followed without willing herself to. The two made their way down the corridor and stepped into the elevator. The two heavy doors slid close. Chameleon pressed the button to the basement. Casually, Fuuko asked, "Is my friend out yet? Can I meet him now?"

"Those who have finished their business with us are considered unauthorized personnel and are not allowed to enter our serving quarters again," she replied mechanically.

Fuuko pressed a black Uzi against the woman's temple. "Come on, I really have to meet him now."

The woman did not seem the least disturbed. She gave Fuuko a side-way glance. "I don't' know what you saw back there, Oriental, but I _did_ warn you not to try any tricks on me."

She had barely finished her speech when she was punched in the face and slammed back into the metal wall. Fuuko was about to add in a few more when she felt herself falling. Chameleon had swept her off her feet with one clean kick, and at the same time knocked the gun out of her hand. She took advantage of the situation and was quickly coming in for more damage. Fuuko bounced up from her position on the floor and jumped; her fingers clung onto one of the ventilation slits in the ceiling. She swung forward to aim a kick at her opponent's face. Like a mind-reading machine, Chameleon ducked and dived behind Fuuko. With well-practiced aim, she curled her arm and forcefully elbowed Fuuko's exposed backbone.

There was an unbearable explosion of pain and Fuuko had to let go of her hold on the ventilation slit. She would have cried out in pain if not for the loss of pride that would have incurred. Instead, she just steadied herself for the next attack, ignoring the tingling in her whole body. 

Chameleon did not push the skirmish. She touched her swollen cheek and glared at Fuuko. With much dignity, she dusted herself down and smoothed her uniform. The elevator opened, and she walked out like nothing had happened. Fuuko could only stare blankly, then follow.

The wind girl wondered at her lack of enthusiasm. Usually she would have fought till that woman dropped… but that emotion-sucking vacuum was still in her guts. No… something crucial must be done before any feelings would come back.

-----

Under some miraculous blessings, Mikagami managed to avoid all the flying bullets. He could not formulate another explanation for his tired, but otherwise unscathed body.

He stood silently in the ruined room. The little furniture there was before was all blasted into pieces, but the metal plated walls had not so much as a scratch on them. Mikagami surveyed the damage he had done to the machine guns impassively. They were all shot and destroyed by his single pistol. However, the gas was still leaking, and it was already disorientating him. He frowned and went over to the glass side of the room. It was as unharmed as the walls.

Without another thought, he whipped out his Ensui and bladed it with the bottle of water he always kept by his side. That glass could stop other similar victims, alright, but Ensui could cut through three feet thick _stone_. In a flash, the glass fell down the length of the building in neatly cut pieces. The shattering sounded like chimes in the cold night air.

It was from the third floor that Mikagami leapt down. The street was empty, quiet, and not very far from the nightclub. Mikagami broke his fall with a forward roll and released Ensui's water. Guns could only do that much, he thought, disgusted. Defeated by glass? What would Meguri-sensei think of me if I died in the hands of _information dealers_?

He frowned, puzzled. Why did information dealers want his life anyway? An assault and murder on one of their customers would affect their creditability and business, and this particular association was well-known in the underground society for their reliability.

But it was no use jumping to conclusions.

Looking up at the ruined glass wall, he grimaced. There were three human silhouettes standing in a row, looking down at him. One of them moved his arm and pointed something at him. Instinctively, Mikagami dived away. Three 'clink's sounded from the spot he was previously standing on. Cursing, Mikagami ducked behind a wide lamp-post. To his surprise, the three people went back into the room without anymore conflict.

I should have known better... I didn't get rid of the surveillance cameras… couldn't see them anyway… Shit! Now I don't know how Fuuko is and can't go back to look for her _and_ can't hang around anymore.

Mikagami hesitated for a few seconds before running into a deserted alley.

---

Fuuko waited for one minute. Five minutes. Seven minutes… Mikagami did not return. Beside her, two guys of at least fifteen years difference in age were jerking each other silly. She ignored them and stared blankly at her drink. She was back at the bar, and Chameleon had taken her role as the sultry bartender again.

The slight trickle of blood from a small wound in the chest had collected in a large pool of crimson, staining the red carpet with a darker shade.

Blood.

Silver hair. Long silver hair.

Fists curled into knuckles. There was so much blood. So much red. Fuuko buried her face in her hands. She wondered whether it was a coincidence that her drink was also a deep deep red. Maybe not. Maybe her subconscious mind recognized that color. So much that she almost thought herself obsessed. And obsession creates desire.

Now, maybe that was why she wanted to see blood.

She took a sip of her red red drink.

Maybe that was why she wanted to see silver hair in the blood.

---

Ten minutes more… the drink was finished.

She sat there, staring at all the bottles of liquor in glass cases. Her hand went to her jacket's pocket and fingered the cold metal there. Her enemy then and now… she wondered if it would ever change. She rarely used the thing, actually. Everything had been done by Fuujin.

At that, she turned her attention to her friend. No… a gun would be equivalent to a piece of scrape metal when the enemy is him. She sighed. In the end, it would be the little furball doing all the dirty work. Again. I'm sorry, Fuujin… I'm sorry… She ran her fingers lightly over the orb.

Glass shattered outside.

Fuuko was out of the door the next second. The night chill slapped her in the face, and she blinked. She could not even remember how she had gotten out of the crowd, nor why she reacted so weirdly. It was only glass shattering, dammit. Glass shatter everywhere.

The bouncer looked at her strangely.

She was about to turn back when she noticed there were no broken shards visible along the whole stretch of road. Nor was a little bit of noise going to penetrate through the rock music of the nightclub. This was no ordinary Carlsberg bottle.

Even with that, she was inclined to go back to the bar. She was not interested in glass, intact or broken. 

It was completely by chance that she happened to catch a flash of silver just as she turned to go down the steps. Pure reflexes kicked in and she was tearing into one of the dark alleys along the street, where that silver was reflecting from. It was only a glimpse from the corner of the eye, but that glimpse confirmed that it was hair. Silver hair.

The darkness engulfed whatever it was in front of her. She just kept running. Once or twice her leg got caught on wire and she fell flat on her face. The moon was not out, and it was total darkness. She kept an ear out for whatever sounds she could pick up from in front of her. There were none. There may not even be anyone in front, common sense chided.

Whether there was anyone or not, Fuuko was not about to give up for a 'maybe'. The chances were fifty-fifty. It was cold. Not freezing cold, but still, a human being needed more covering than a tanktop. She dared not stop or slow to put on her jacket. The whole alley felt damp. The random wires and scattered glass shards were the most imminent threats in a situation where you could not see what the next step had in store for you. Something sharp roughly scraped past her calf, tearing open a deep wound. The blood flowed. Fuuko ran on.

The person in front of her, if there was any, either knew the place very well or was flying. There was no other ways to avoid the random killer objects that were strewn around. Fuuko stubbed her toes against another harder-than-necessary crate and almost fell. Breathing heavily, her body involuntarily took the chance to stop for a quarter of a second to rest. Then she was off again, chasing the darkness.

She was sure that was Mikagami. No one else could run that fast and that quietly. And she would have caught up long ago if it had not been for the constant tripping. Fuuko gritted her teeth and willed her legs to propel her onward, faster.

---

Mikagami narrowed his eyes. He could not throw his pursuer off his track. That was one fast one.

Once again, he had to thank the genetics in his body.  
  
---

She was about to drop. She wanted oxygen. She carried on running.

It was not until something really hard crashed against her head that her knees buckled, and for the first time, allowed the limp body to fall onto the dirty ground.

Shit… stupid place… for a wall… Fuuko closed her eyes and lied there for a moment. Just rested. And breathed.

---

The noises behind ceased to sound. Mikagami really appreciated that.

He slowed down his speed but continued running. How long had the chase been? 20 minutes? He had been running at the speed of 11 seconds per 100 metres for 20 minutes. Needless to say, he was a step short from collapsing. But in this world, collapsing meant death. You won't even see the face of your murderer.

Actually, he had been pretty afraid when he fell in Kai's presence. His weapon was not in his hand; he was exposing his neck, back, heart, everywhere. He was helpless and he had not liked that. Currently, if he had any energy left, he would have laughed. Why did he even let the situation come to that? Why not just aim a little to the left, and pierce the heart? Even if he was not the one who… killed Mifuyu, well, what could he say? He kills at least ten strangers every month.

Mikagami, a little disgusted at his train of thoughts, wrenched his mind back to the present. He could not control the past, so it was better to concentrate on keeping himself alive. Oh, he was such an expert at that.

Everyone dies. Everyone he had loved died. But he was always alive.

The darkness gave way to the faint glow of a dying roadside lamppost. Mikagami came to the end of the alley. Cautiously, he drew out his gun. The alley led out to another road, an old and forgotten one. There was not even a tramp on the rotting bench. It was by some miracle that the lamppost still had electricity running to it.

Not far off to the right, there was something that looked like an abandoned construction site. Mikagami stole towards it. Time to end the chase.

---

Mikagami raced down the long stone passage. Some guy in a suit was on his tail. Weird. He was nowhere near as fast as the one in the alley. He certainly hoped there was only one in the eerie place. There was rubble everywhere. Half done walls were potential hiding places, and he tried in vain to avoid going close to them. Well, there he was, and if his sense of direction led him correctly, there should be a hole big enough for him at the end of the passage. It looked like so from the ground.

Somewhere in front, a feeble light filtered in. Good. That should be the window. Mikagami sprinted forward and swung himself out to the other side, onto empty air. He touched the ground softly the next second, barely making a sound. It was tall grass that cushioned and hid him. It was impossible for his enemy to see him in near-non-existent vision, more so when he was in tall grasses. But that did not necessarily apply to him.

Mikagami crouched down low. A few seconds later, a dark shape appeared at the window. Two bullets in the head. He was dead before he knew it.

Mikagami watched the dark shape fall back. Behind him, footsteps sounded. He whirled around immediately, aghast at his own carelessness.

The footsteps stopped. A familiar voice reached out to him.

"_The blood on your hands, _

She stood there.

_"The love you killed, _

Her eyes hidden in shadows.

_"Recompense the pain, _

She smiled.

_"In Death." _

The wind rose. 

  
"Fuuko…?"

---

_Query=situation_report  
  
Results=positive. According to plan.  
  
Orders=unchanged. Keep up with surveillance. _

---

"What are you doing, Fuuko?" Mikagami snapped, a hand already on his gun.

She smiled, although it was a sad one. "What did _you_ do, Mikagami? I thought you were my friend…"

"What?" Mikagami narrowed his eyes dangerously, his jaws clenching. "_You_ tell me what I did."

"I thought I could rely on you, and Recca, and Yanagi, and Domon, and Koganei… I thought you were all my friends…"

"Put down that gun, Kirisawa."

"What else did the rest do? Is it only you? Can I trust them anymore?"

That's girl's got one corrupted head… Mikagami sighed internally, in frustration.

"I don't want to do this, Mikagami. What can you say? Tell me, tell me you didn't do it…" She cocked her head, and her grip on the semi-automatic tightened.

"They showed you something, didn't they," Mikagami concluded. "You saw something you're not supposed to see."

"It's too late. I already know." A tear fell. It could have been an illusion; Mikagami didn't know.

The wind whipped his hair about, and the wind was the only thing making the noise. It was silent, the silence. Mikagami did not make a sound; Fuuko aimed at his heart.

"Well, then shoot."

She tensed, then sadness diminished in a second, to be replaced by overwhelming rage. "Die, Metallica."

She pulled the trigger.

---

_"Stop trying to avoid the topic, Fuu-chan. Tell me why you got into that fight," her mother sat down in front of her, a stern expression on her face. _

_ "I said I don't know! Just leave me alone, mum!" Fuuko plugged her fingers into her ears and turned away, her knee unfortunately banging into the armrest of the chair she was on. _

_ The day had not gone well, what with being ambushed four to one and all… she really did not need a preach on her public conduct. _

_ "There are reasons for everything, Fuu-chan, and you know them. I really don't see why you need to pave your life with violence. You and Recca can get on better _without_ fighting," her mother patronized, patient. _

_ "Well, I just felt like it, alright?!! Now can you leave me alone?!" Fuuko hollered, irritated. _

_ "Fuuko!" her mother frowned disapprovingly. Then she got an idea. "Let me tell you what. I'll give you a little challenge." _

_ Fuuko paused, then sighed in resignation. "What?" _

_ "I challenge you to stop fighting for one month," her mother said, determination and amusement both in her words. _

_ "Why?" _

_ "I only hope you can learn that violence doesn't solve everything, love. Revenge begets revenge, when will the thread end? You have been fighting with the other boys for so long now, I just wish you'd stop." _

_ "Well, if anyone hurts you, won't you want someone to fight back for you? Who would just take a beating and be done with it?" Fuuko argued, then promptly shut up when she got hauled into her mother's embrace. She flushed, embarrassed, and tried to break free._

_ "Don't say that, Fuuko. I know for one, that even if anything unfortunate happens to me, I won't want you to go after the culprit. What's the point? There're always people who will cry no matter which side is punished. Look beyond the antagonist to the ties he holds behind his back, away from your eyes. I'm afraid, that one day, you will make a decision that you'd regret later, then everything will be too late to save, and you'll cry because you're the one who destroyed the picture in the first place." _

---

There was the silence.

Nothing but the silence.

The tear rolled out of her eye, as she froze with the revolting cold metal in her hand, wishing she could undo her actions. The shot had rang loud and clear; she had forgotten the silencer. So loud… so final…

The hand that grasped the gun sudden felt numb, from the impact, from so many other things. Then it was so painful, she had to drop the dead heavy piece of metal. Fuuko screamed, as it hit the ground. Screamed into the night for the whole world to hear, and yet no one could.

Pained, strangled, confused, betrayed.

Then she collapsed into a heap, and howled.

Cried for a very long time.

The residing rats and other animals all hid in their shelters, trembling and frightened of the unwelcome intrusion. Fuuko buried her face in her lap, and stayed still even as the tears stopped. Quiet, and then there were the footsteps.

"You haven't killed before."

Fuuko glared up at the pale, cold face with the deepest hatred hidden inside her. "Shut up! Shut up or I'll really kill you!"

Mikagami picked up the semi-automatic lying beside her. "I should have known long before handing you a gun. Have you even used one before?"

"I said shut up!!" Fuuko screamed again, throwing her other gun wildly at Mikagami. He snatched it out of the air smoothly.

"What the hell are you crying for?" he asked coolly, taking a step towards the previously hysterical girl. He stood directly in front of her, and if he had not known better, he would have stepped closer. Fuuko looked rabid at that moment.

"You killed my mother! You took away the only person who loved me! What can I say now? You've won! I can't even avenge her properly! Laugh! You can laugh now!" she rose to her full height, eyes flashing, and slapped the assassin across the face. "Congratulations, my friend."

"What…?" Mikagami left the words hanging, barely feeling the sting of the slap.

"Betrayed, now I know how betrayal tastes like."

"You said I killed your mother."

Fuuko fell back onto the ground, and sat there, like all the strength had been sucked out.

"I didn't."

"At least you're bothering to deny it…" the words came out muffled. "Now tell me what I'm supposed to do… kill myself?"

"I didn't kill your mother."

Fuuko's muscles tensed. In a low voice, she said, clearly, "I hate you, Tokiya Mikagami, Metallica, whoever you are. I hate you."

"I repeat again, I didn't kill your mother. What prompted you to think so?" Mikagami kneeled down in front of her, and tried to look into her face. When she turned away, he pulled her back by the shoulder, and forcefully turned her chin towards him. They stared at each other. "Heard what I said? I said I didn't kill your mother."

"Then who is it…?" Fuuko asked in a small voice, sounding tired, so tired. "You expect me to believe you."

"I don't mean it that way." Mikagami let go of her, and she scrambled up at once.

"Don't tell me anything else. I'm drained, okay? Depleted. I don't want to feel anything else, so leave me alone." With that, she took off into the night, footsteps loud against the uneven gravel, leaving a troubled Mikagami behind.

He got up, and turned, walking in the direction of their hotel. There was nothing he could do until... what? He did not know. They should probably make a move soon, to somewhere else, and he was determined to get their things out before they were successfully traced. He sighed, softly, to himself. What can I say…? She thinks I killed her mother? Stupid monkey…

He fingered the two guns in his hands. Idiot…

He had known from the moment Fuuko put a finger on the trigger, that she was no regular with guns. He wondered if she ever got proper training and education on the safety measures and usage; he had a feeling she was depending on her natural-born good aim to shoot.

That was why he had not even bothered to dodge the bullet.

She had forgotten to cock the gun.

Inexperienced, pretending to be brave... pretending to know everything... He had noticed. Fuuko was trembling even as she held the gun and pulled the trigger. Her hands are still clean... even after everything.

Those thoughts were not condescending like they were, usually. To his own surprise, Mikagami found himself sympathizing with the wind girl.

_Betrayed, now I know how betrayal tastes like. _

And you think I don't?

It was then that he heard, distinctively, from far behind him, Fuuko's scream.  
  
  


_________________________________________________________________________________________

This part was fast in coming, wasn't it? I've decided to shorten my chapters and in the meantime, shorten the production time *sheepish* I'm sorry for always taking so very long, always. Is this better? Or is the more and long system better? 

I know there are confusing parts, like how Mikagami managed to see better than others in the dark, that part about his genetics. Answers as to why will come in future chapters ^o^ along with the complete reason for Fuuko becoming an assassin. Mikagami tends to behave very… aggressively when he's working… and as a sidenote, the author says he'll do almost anything to achieve his goal. Because he's been trained to do so and because the author says so. 

For Fuuko's model of gun, the SIG she used, it has a decocking level that always looks half down, even if it's fully down. Fuuko mistakened it for being cocked when she fired the shot. (Wait, I'm not sure whether it's the decocking level or something else, but I'm sure it's something along these lines...) Just thought I'd like to clear the issue. Fuuko isn't that big of an idiot in my mind. 

As an additional note, this fic is based on the storyline of the manga, and in the manga, Mikagami HAD a chance to kill Kai. He appeared behind Kai and took him by surprise, piercing his right chest. If Mikagami had wanted, he could have pierced his _heart._ And yeah, that was what I was talking about in the fic. 

Thanks to Ferrum for the information on the guns.  
Thanks a lot to Fire Arrow for being a dedicated reader *hugs* I really appreciate it very much.  
Thanks to the new people who have added this fic to their favorites' list, though I don't know who you are... 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™. Characters in this fanfiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission from the creator and are copyrighted to their respective owners.


	6. Mission 1 - Handicapped

The Darker Side

Chapter V

Mission 1 – Handicapped

Pain.

Red hot pain.

Burning.

Fuuko let the scream tear out of her throat as she clutched at her arm. Her knees buckled, and she fell face first into the dirt. The random stones jabbed her in the face and head, but they were only pricks of pain in comparison. Red spots clouded her vision, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked out.

She knew she had to move. The second shot would land squarely in her head.

"I overestimated you, Operator Tempest." The voice was soft, yet there was a hard and commanding edge to it. it sounded familiar… somehow. Fuuko shuddered, out of pain and fear. So this was what it felt like to be awaiting death. She thought she had already known the taste of it.

Her eyes opened a crack, disregarding the blinding heat in her upper left arm.

Silver hair.

The thought hit home with pure hatred. She struggled to get up, but her feet slid on the gravel, and she fell back, her face crashing into the ground once more. A whimper escaped in a strangled voice.

She felt a shoe under her chin, propping it up. Fuuko gasped, then ground on her teeth fiercely. The pain flared once again. She glared up into the shadowed face, seeing nothing more than faint lines. Her vision dotted over with red, and she squeezed her eyes shut again. Pain… pain… pain…

The shadow cocked a head. Fuuko felt herself scrutinized. The shoe left its position, and Fuuko's chin dropped onto the sharp stones. She grimaced despite herself.

"I never like to gloat, so I'll make this clean." A gun cocked, the sound crisp in the cold night air. "Any last words?"

For a moment, there was silence, broken time to time by Fuuko's ragged breathing. The air held still, the tension thick.

"Nothing?" the voice rasped. "Just as well."

Fuuko lifted her head, trying to glimpse the face, even if it was just a little, even if she could do nothing about it. "W… wait…" she whispered, voice hoarse. Her head fell back onto the ground; her strength was ebbing away, like the blood that now soaked her hand and pooled around her arm. "… You killed my mum…"

Her good hand reached out, almost touching the leather boot. It moved away carelessly. There was no reply.

"W… who was it…? Who asked you to do it…?" Fuuko raised her voice, but it was far from loud.

"So many questions…" there was amusement in the quiet voice. The boots moved, and the footsteps encircled Fuuko. She could care less that she was on display. She wanted to know, wanted to know so much, even if it was the last thing she could do.

"Who was it…?"

"…"

Fuuko's mind was relaxing, coherent thoughts fading out even as she vainly tried to keep them in her grasp. The conscious part of her fought with the physical agony, even as it was being crushed under two years of suppressed emotions and stress. She was tired… she wanted to give in and sleep…

"Too much time wasted." The footsteps finished its circle in front of her, in the original position. She caught a dull glint of metal moving through the slits in her eyes.

Who killed Mum? Who's going to avenge her if I die? Who's going to avenge me if I die? Who killed her? Who killed me…? A sudden rush of thoughts charged into her head, making sense even through the thick fog that seemed to have enshrouded everything in her vision and in her mind. Can't die… I don't want to die…

Above her, a finger went to the trigger. "We'll end this conversation now."

"You still have me to talk to," a voice sounded behind. It rang clear in the frozen atmosphere.

Fuuko's mind was jerked back into focus. She recognized the voice, more so the owner of the voice. It sparked off hopes that had been dying the previous second. Mikagami… Tokiya Mikagami. Her eyelids were heavy, and sleep seemed so tempting at that moment, to get sucked into nothingness, away from the pain of reality, physical, emotional, and mental. But never had she experienced the true meaning of hope, until that moment. Don't go away… Mi-chan… Mum… Mum…? I want to know…

She heard the person in front of her breathe out heavily. There was a pause, then the voice came out cold. "Over-estimated one and under-estimated the other…"

"I propose that we exchange. Your life for hers." A gun cocked.

"... Fair enough."

Fuuko saw that dull glint again, as the cold metal went down this time.

"I'm on the side of justice," was the cool mocking reply. So Mikagami.

Fuuko tried to get up, as footsteps faded away into the darkness, further and further away from her, but she could not even move her head. Wait… don't go… you haven't answered me ye…

The darkness finally ruled.

---

Mikagami dropped the semi-automatic into his jacket, after he was sure there was no one left that required bullets to subdue. In a few brisk steps, he was kneeling by his fallen teammate and accessing the injuries. Fuuko was lucky, to have gotten hit only on the arm. You mean she's lucky that guy only aimed at her arm…

He removed Fuuko's other hand, which covered the wound, then took off his own jacket and ripped off the sleeves. In a few swift motions, he crudely bandaged the offended area so that it did not bleed that badly. When he was finished, he let out an exasperated sigh and glared at the body beside his foot. "You just had to mess up my plans, didn't you, idiot?" he muttered.

There was no reply. Not that he was expecting any.

Mikagami closed his eyes and tried to settle his shifting state of mind. Who was he now? He frowned, then decided on Tokiya Mikagami. His eyes opened after a while, and he stood up, dusting himself down. Then he picked up Fuuko, sliding one hand beneath her knees and another supporting her back, and started clearing out of the place.

The night wind was less than merciful, Mikagami noted. He was rarely affected by chill ever since he had taken up Hyomon Ken, but Fuuko was another issue altogether. Her lips were already dry and in a moment, they were going to be chapped. Mikagami focused on his surroundings, ears on the alert for unusual sounds. His steps were firm on the ground, making no noise even with the randomly scattered pebbles and stones under his feet.

Fuuko did not even shift throughout the journey; Mikagami had to constantly make sure that she was actually alive. He made a mental note to himself that he would have to look into the problem of his split personality soon. It was not like what many people thought, where one could not control his alternate personality. No, for Mikagami's case, it was just a drastic change of perspective, and a drastic change of managing events, thoughts, and feelings. There had been a firm wall between the two just a few days ago… but now…

Mikagami cleared his head of the thoughts. They were too much trouble at the moment. He had sorted out his values and thoughts carefully when he took up the job, and he did not want them messed up.

More specifically, he did not want Fuuko to mess them up. She was a danger to his mind set.

It was nearly half an hour later when they saw the first signs of human life. Fuuko was still unconscious; she had not lost too much blood, so Mikagami assumed she was knocked out by pain. Some time during the journey he became aware of various mysterious wounds that Fuuko sported, especially the long and deep gash on her calf. Her head was also pretty beaten up, and that may be the primary contribution to her unconsciousness.

The hotel they accommodated in was in the center of the city, and Mikagami did his best to hide Fuuko's wounds, which was nearly impossible. In the end, he had to stop at a remote and rundown shop at the outskirts of the city, dumping Fuuko temporarily in an alley. He managed to get a gaudy pair of socks and a scarf, after a tiring session of trying to make the deaf shopkeeper understand his words.

The terribly-colored socks he put on Fuuko, one to crudely bandage her bleeding wound and one to cover up the bandage; the scarf was tied around her arm, also to conceal the shredded up jacket and the blood that was already seeping through. Then he carried her until there was traffic, until there were cabs. Once there he flagged down one of a bright yellow color, and slid into the backseat with Fuuko in his lap.

They cruised slowly into the lights, the cab badly reeking of cigarettes. Mikagami did his best to pretend he was half-sloshed as he cradled Fuuko to his chest, hiding the scarf with his hair, which shimmered with every color that shone on it.

He leaned back, seething inside, and totally exhausted.

The past few days seemed surreal now, the idea of Fuuko being an assassin, being the same as him, too difficult to accept. She was, in a twisted sense, an icon of justice when they fought their way through the Urabatousatsujin. Mikagami would have laughed at the ugly twist in events if it had been in the least amusing. It was really amazing what love could do, he told himself dryly. But if he killed to, in a way, avenge his sister, why couldn't Fuuko…?

Then his eyes darkened. They had to complete their work as soon as possible now that the schedule and plans were gravely interrupted, and a new predator had just entered the game. They had to get out of the foreign territory soon, injured or not injured.

"Having fun clubbing, ain't you, young lady?"

Mikagami moved his eyeballs in every semblance of drunkenness to gaze at the driver. He gave a small intoxicated smile then turned away. He had a talent for acting.

"Well, young ladies'd better not be wanderin' around at this time, if ya ask me." The cab turned at a junction.

Mikagami gave a convincing snort as his head rolled in the other direction with the car's turning. The driver eyed him through the rearview mirror. Mikagami closed his eyes. Then, in a small whisper, as if there were people to hear, the bald plump man asked, "How much ye askin' for one night?"

The nerves in Mikagami's neck twitched. His one eyelid flitted open in mock laziness, though the fire inside him was slowly building. As if the whole turn of events were not enough for one night. "Jus' shaddup, uncle," he tried, in as much of a feminine voice as he could muster. That too, had been perfected due to necessity over the years.

The driver grunted, and stepped on the accelerator violently.

The gun in the back of his pants suddenly made its presence felt. So tempting…

The cab pulled up. The cold metal was poking into his back. Mikagami reached behind him slowly… and tossed a few notes to the driver. He released the lock on the door on his side and kicked it open, nearly crashing if off its hinges. Then he braced Fuuko against his chest and stepped out, going in the direction of the hotel and leaving the door wide open behind him. Subdued yells and profane language trailed him up the steps.

He hid the fury and collected his keys at the receptionist, earning himself a measuring glance in the process. Otherwise, the rest of his journey to his rooms was safe.

---

Her whole body ached.

Fuuko's mind stirred at that realization. The darkness clung to her, sticky and reluctant to let go of their prey. Fuuko struggled internally, trying to get a grip on her body. Which was not responding at that moment. Slowly, very slowly, she managed to crack open an eyelid just a slit.

Pain.

Fuuko let out a soft whimper as the nerves of her body started acting up as well. Her leg… there was something wrong with her leg…

She tried to move, but could not even lift her head. the successfully opened eye closed back, and Fuuko relaxed back into the pillow involuntarily, hoping the fire in her calf, and now in her left bicep, would burn out on its own. Neither did, but the drum set in her head finally showed up.

After ten eternities of slipping between unconsciousness and wakefulness, Fuuko opened both her eyes, face distorted with the effort. Her head pounded relentlessly…

"I was just wondering if you needed a kiss to wake up," an emotionless voice cut into her ears, and seemed to slice into her brain. Fuuko winced, snapping her eyes back shut.

The enzymes had made their ways into her head… She slowly became aware of the meaning in the words, then slowly, after fumbling with her language, perceived the sarcasm inside. Frowning a little, she wondered why the voice sounded so familiar.

Mi-chan…

Blood.

She froze, then screamed.

The images assaulted her, the distant sweet past mingling with the pain of the last year and swirling together with the realization, hurt, and betrayal of yesterday. Pain, so much of it.

How long did her howling last she did not know. She was not aware of herself making the noise, until firm hands shook her roughly away from the muddled pictures that brought out so much buried emotions. Then she stopped, eyes looking at ice blue ones through moisture that felt all too much like tears.

The silence was pleasant.

She blinked.

And blinked again.

"You didn't kill my mother?" she whispered, her voice pitched high, almost breaking.

Mikagami would have been surprised by the abrupt question if under different circumstances. But as it was, he did his best to put on a reassuring expression, and said firmly, "No, Fuuko. It was not me."

"Recca didn't do it, did he? Koganei? Domon? None of them did it?" her eyes were wide, glazed over.

Mikagami's concern won over his frustrations at last, and he sat down beside Fuuko, hands still on her shoulders pinning her down. He leaned over her, blocking the intense light coming from the overhead florescent lamp. "No, Fuuko. Remember that person who pointed the gun at you? None of us did it. None of us killed your mother."

None of us betrayed you, he added to himself. His hands began kneading the muscles on Fuuko's shoulders, helping her relax. He applauded himself for the chivalrous act of patience.

Fuuko's wide empty eyes fixed on his, and the tremors started. "Did he say? did you ask him who it was? The- the-"

"No," Mikagami replied. "But we'll meet again. There's time."

The air left Fuuko's lungs all at once, and her tense muscles eased a little. She lay limp on the bed, her head turning away from Mikagami's piercing gaze. Mikagami noted the rationality that came back to her eyes, and let go of her. He did not budge from where he sat.

"Are you tired?" he asked, the toneless voice coming back.

"Are you?" came back the empty answer.

She sounded dead. Mikagami ignored her questioning reply. "You have slept for more than twelve hours."

"…I don't want to wake up," Fuuko whimpered, shifting as if trying to bury deeper into the blankets.

Mikagami let the stillness of the air hang for a few more moments while he studied his partner's face. It was near midnight. He had patched Fuuko up as best as he could with a first aid kit, and left her to sleep. While waiting for her revival, he could do nothing but while time away by puzzling over the reasons behind their latest failure. It was the first time a transaction with an information dealer had gone so drastically wrong for him. Now he was not sure whether he had another enemy to watch out for, nor did he know how vulnerable his position was. His mouth set in a grim line. He had a fine idea though. And he still had… _her_, to deal with.

"How long do you need before you can walk properly?" he asked.

"What's wrong with my leg?" came the flat reply. There did not seem to be the slightest concern.

"You tore the muscles. Badly."

A faint nod. "In that alley… I remember."

"Alley," Mikagami repeated.

"I think I was chasing after you."

"…"

"…"

"You're the one chasing after me then?" Mikagami frowned, recalling the ghastly difference in speed between the one pursuing him in the alley, and the one trying to shoot him in the construction site.

"I guess so," Fuuko murmured.

The silence fell. Slowly, the rain outside began to fall as well. Huge clouds that were invisible against the jet-black sky gathered, the drops that were dispensed from them bearing a lower pH than they should have. Soon there was a nice storm going on, and two assassins watched from inside a quiet hotel room.

Fuuko licked her dry lips. "What happened today?"

"I don't know."

She gave a silent laugh. "Mikagami doesn't know? This must be a first…"

The swords master gave her a sidelong look before turning his eyes back to the window. "Information buying usually don't turn this messy."

Fuuko's laugh trailed off into a chuckle. "It doesn't feel like anything I've seen in the movies. In the movies, it's always meeting a teenage boy in a warehouse or something."

"In the movies, the main characters almost always leave with an intact body," Mikagami replied dryly.

"So pessimistic…" Fuuko said. "Are we the main characters then?"

"To ourselves, yes."

"Then do the main characters fall in love?" She wondered in the back of her mind what made her say it. She was just tired.

"No, they don't."

"You don't like me?" Fuuko turned to look at her partner, a hand going up to rest on her chest. "Cupid in the heaven, save me from this lie, I am stung by the cold radiating from my love."

"You should have guessed long ago." Mikagami allowed a rare smile to pass his face, amused at the ridiculous show Fuuko managed even in the grim circumstances. I think she doesn't even realize it…

"Fuuko, we need to move out as soon as we can."

Fuuko's shoulders sagged, and she turned away back to the window. Minutes passed. Mikagami wondered whether Fuuko was crying. He turned on his rarely used sensitivity and waited for Fuuko to make a sound; she would when she was ready. On the other hand, he did not know what he himself made of the whole fiasco. Mikagami realized with surprise that he was taking the whole affair personally. Why? Because… because Fuuko was his friend… because he had gone through this before.

Finally, as the storm outside the safety of the four walls raged on, Fuuko tilted her head to study Mikagami's still features. She held out her arms and closed her eyes tiredly. "A hug, please?"

"You've never bothered to ask before." Mikagami looked down at the girl lying beside him on the bed.

Two arms snaked around his neck and pulled him close. Mikagami seriously considered what he was supposed to do for a few seconds, before coming to the conclusion that he should put his arms around Fuuko's waist. He did, sliding his arms underneath her to pull her up against him, and for the first time, realized that Fuuko had probably lost a lot of weight. The wind girl buried her face in his shoulders, containing the pain in her arm, and they held still for several minutes.

I'm becoming soft… Mikagami thought to himself dryly. But it had been so long since someone had hugged him like this.

The rain began to fall harder, and it was the only noise that reverberated in the room.

Moisture began to seep through the thin tanktop Mikagami was wearing.

"I'm so useless, Mikagami…" Fuuko whispered, her voice muffled. "I saw her die… I saw her on the tape. I saw her doing shopping, she said she was going shopping that day. I saw her from the murderer's point of view! I was behind the gun, I saw the hand that pulled the trigger. I felt so useless… the gun was only a foot away from my face, and I couldn't stop it…" Some time during the speech, the shaky voice had turned into a sobbing.

Mikagami sighed to himself. "You were further away than you can ever imagine, Fuuko. You're a year away from your mother, and a year away from the trigger." So that was it…

"I couldn't breathe, Mikagami. I wanted to cry but I couldn't, because I couldn't breathe…" Fuuko cried, pulling her friend closer, yearning the warmth. "And then I saw you walking away. I saw- I saw someone wearing this black jacket, and- and he had silver hair. Then all I wanted to do was to kill you… I- I don't know…"

"…Maybe I shouldn't be asking this now, but does it look like the scene has been filmed from a security camera?" Mikagami frowned lightly.

Fuuko took a deep breath, and released her hold slightly. "No. No it doesn't. It looks just like a film, with different angles of shooting." She paused, body stiffening.

Mikagami 's eyes narrowed. "Someone wanted you to see it. Right from the start."

"I realized that," Fuuko tensed again. Her voice was glacial cold.

Mikagami was silent, feeling a fist tightening on his shirt behind his back. He hesitated, then reached up Fuuko's back to rub behind her neck gently. He was sure Fuuko jumped.

"What are you doing?"

"If you think too much now, you're going to break down," Mikagami supplied. "Relax."

A slight sigh. "Mikagami…" she said quietly. "I've just pointed a gun in your face, you know. I really wanted to kill you."

There were no more sounds save their breathing. Mikagami shifted and put Fuuko back down into her lying position, shifting a little in his sitting position on the bed so that he was a decent distance away. The goddess of wind turned her head a little so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Mikagami was leaning against the wall a few steps away from her bed.

"When you thought it was me…" the nasal voice began softly. "You were confused. You didn't know what to do, because you feel like you have been torn apart, because you feel like you've been betrayed and used. You start hating every one you have ever known, because you're suspicious. Then when the confusion ebbs away, you find anger. Raw anger that makes you want to kill," he paused, casting Fuuko a look and caught her in the eye. "Then where it's all gone, you just feel tired."

"You understand it very well, don't you?" Fuuko laughed. "Words are not enough for feelings though."

"But what if you have killed me?" Mikagami continued, his eyes on the floor. "When you find out the truth, that you've murdered the wrong person, you'll discover the true meaning of betrayal. Because by then, I'm already dead, you're the one who had killed me, and the greatest punishment you can give yourself is to carry on living." He closed his eyes.

Fuuko swallowed. She had forgotten that it was Mikagami she was dealing with. With anyone else she could snarl and said they were spouting bullshit, but this was Mikagami.

Because by then, I'm already dead, you're the one who killed me, and the greatest punishment you can give yourself is to carry on living.

She had heard that Meguri died in Mikagami's arms.

All the while, Meguri had been trying to protect Mikagami, even to the final fight, even to his last breath. He died for his grandchild.

Meguri gave his everything. What did Mikagami return?

"Don't trouble yourself anymore," Mikagami said, one hand carelessly tucking his ear tails behind his ears. His eyes were detached once again, Fuuko recognized.

Fuuko nodded, lifting her good hand to rub her temples. She wisely decided not to bring up the topic of his late master. "You know, this is all too surreal. Everything I know is snapping in half and turning itself inside out."

Mikagami stared at his toes, then pushed himself off the wall. "If you need a listening ear, maybe I can help. Tomorrow, after you rest, and after we move to a safer place, I'll answer all the questions you have."

Fuuko gave him a strange look. "Since when… have you been… so… nice?"

Mikagami's hand paused on the doorknob. "I know what it's like." He hesitated a little. "'If you need a listening ear, then maybe I can help'…" baby blue eyes lowered, "That was what sensei said to me." He opened the door and disappeared.

Fuuko was left to herself and the storm that still raged on outside.

Author's notes  
  
Cheesy, corny, tell me about it. I thought it was real sad when Mikagami killed Meguri… I'm sorry about the poor use of language and the terrible speed. I've been experiencing problems with my writing lately. Things don't flow so smoothly as they used to anymore. (Actually this was already complete in October, but… I can't bring myself to post this crap) Please do notify me if the language is unsmooth to the point of irritation, the two leads are going out of character, or the plot is not being well paced.

As a sidenote, I hate original characters. I hate original characters that last for more than three chapters. Go figure   
  
---

And er…  
Shameless plugging #1: I have a new Weiss Kreuz fic going on. it revolves around Schwarz, interested people, please read it? it's called Faded Obsidian, and it's one of the reasons why this part's so long in coming ^^;; gomen ne!  
  
Shameless plugging #2: I have created this mailing list on yahoo groups that's working as an update list for my fics and fanarts. I post my latest drafts there (they come around five days before I post my edited version) and snippets of scenes. If you really like this fic and hate my inconsistency, try joining that ml for the latest update, as well as a notification on which fic I'm working on at the moment

It's at http://www.egroups.com/group/saturndewicked  
Or you can refer to my profile for the priority of updates.

---

NOTICE: This chapter is subjected to changes on wimp of the author at any point of time.  


____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Original plot and characters are properties of the creator and distributors of Flame of Recca and are copyright to their respective owners. Author of this work claims no ownership, part or whole, of the original plot and characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction and all other relevant chapters and work, both text and non-text, are created for sole purpose of entertainment. Work is absolutely a non-commercial creation and no profits are made from the production, maintenance or display.

The Darker Side is an original piece of fan work copyrighted to saturn de wicked. No part of this work is to be reproduced or adapted in any way without the author's permission.


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